


A Different Kind of Relationship

by SatsunonSavior



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: Comedy, Depression, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Rape, Physical Disability, Post-Series, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Semi-graphic violence, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatsunonSavior/pseuds/SatsunonSavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you deal with something that changes your life forever? Two years after the end of the series, Jakuzure Nonon deals with new highs, new lows, new friends and an injury that changes everything. And as always, there's Kiryūin Satsuki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trials and Tribulations

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome and thank you for reading! This is a long-term fic that will be updated regularly, as about a dozen chapters are already written and awaiting polish. I'll be sure to post warnings at the start of each chapter for any NSFW content (violent or sexual) and whenever anything...Ragyou-esque turns up. So please read, enjoy and comment below!

Jakuzure held up a close cut blouse in a deep blue color, pressing it to her chest and looking appraisingly into the mirror at her reflection. She paused for a fraction of a second, smiled and then threw the shirt across the room with sudden and surprising violence. It _flumped_ against the wall and fluttered sadly down to join an increasingly large pile of shirts, blouses, jackets and other assorted clothing.

“Ahhh!” she yelled, stamping her foot, “I have _nothing_ to wear.”

She groaned, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, trying to massage away her incipient headache. Giving that up as a hopeless task, she sighed and continued to rummage through the desolation of her wardrobe, pawing through what little she hadn’t already thrown aside in disgust. She picked up a tank-top festooned with sequins and stared at it in disbelief.

“Why did I buy this, and who let me?” she asked the room at large. “I hope I never wore this anywhere!”

She tossed the glittering monstrosity aside and lifted up another garment, eyeing it critically.

“This might do…” she said to herself, picking it up and adding some shorts and thigh highs to the pile over her arm. She negotiated her way across the treacherous floor to a relatively uncluttered spot in the room, picking up her coffee and taking a gulp of it as she did so. She dressed as quickly as she could, glancing nervously at the clock every few seconds, willing it to slow down. The car should arrive any minute. Thankfully, she was almost ready. She nodded to herself, pulling a small pirouette in the mirror and smiling in approval. She was debating shoe choices now; the flats would look good, but a little too casual. The heels were out. The boots made her look like she was trying not to be the world’s angriest midget, and made her walk like she was on stilts. No, these, these were perfect. She leaned forwards, reaching out a hand to grab a pair of pink trainers.

_BA-DA-DA DUMMMMMMMM!_

“Ah, _fuck!_ ” she yelled, losing her balance as her shorts decided to spontaneously blast Beethoven’s 5th Symphony in C minor at five _million_ decibels just as she shifted her balance. She tried to jump to her feet, startled by the noise of her ringtone but put too much energy into the motion, surprised as she was, and collapsed with a thump in a tangle of limbs.

_DA-DA-DA DUUUUUUM!_

Jakuzure lay on the plush carpet of her bedroom floor and felt the slow, spreading heat of her morning coffee spilling its way across her perfect outfit. Slowly, she made a fist and hammered it on the floor; once, twice, three times. The strains of Beethoven’s masterpiece wove their way through the room in time to it; strings and brass forming an elegant accompaniment to the slow, defeated thump of her fist onto the carpet.

“Fucking _kill me._ ” she swore as she lifted her phone to her ear. “ _What Do You Want?_ ” she demanded.

“Ah, Jakuzure, good morning.” replied a cool, feminine voice not missing a beat at her unorthodox greeting. Jakuzure kicked herself mentally. _Boy, you’re sure made your first impression there_ , she thought, _Way to blow her away with your grace and charm, moron._

“A-ah. Good morning, Lady Satsuki!” she said, coughing to hide the sound of her embarrassment.

“Just Satsuki will do, Jakuzure, I told you.” Satsuki corrected her softly, “We’re outside.”

Jakuzure shot to her feet, coffee cup rolling across the floor. Panicked, she looked around, then down at herself. Her cute blouse had a dark stain that was turning its pattern into a Rorschach test, though blessedly it had avoided the rest of her carefully chosen wardrobe.

“Okay, okay! I’ll be right down!” she said with an assurance she didn’t feel, stripping the shirt over her head and throwing it aside, rooting through her wardrobe as if she might have overlooked something, the same way one might return to a refrigerator three times in an hour, hoping that the wilted lettuce and dubious Chinese leftovers might have somehow morphed into something resembling food.

“I just have to…have to…” she said, trailing off as her wardrobe failed to offer up anything that she would want to be seen dead in, let alone alive and in the company of Kiryuin Satsuki.

“We’ll be waiting.” Satsuki said, hanging up.

Jakuzure said something unladylike and raised her phone to dash it into oblivion against the wall, then thought better of it and let it drop to the floor. She scrabbled about in her wardrobe, throwing aside dirty or ill-fitting clothes until she found a clean white shirt which looked a tolerable fit. She mouthed thanks to the heavens, turning it around to put it on, when she realized it was inside out. With practiced ease, she flipped the shirt the right way round, and all color drained from her face.

“No…” she murmured, shaking her head, “This is not the only clean shirt I have that fits. I refuse. I would rather walk downstairs with my fucking tits out than wear this.”

She shut her eyes, her headache pressing into her temples like two icicles trying to bore into her brain. When she opened her eyes, the shirt had failed to transform into something wearable. She lifted the shirt, drawing her arm back to throw-

_BA-DA-DA DUMMMMM!_

Her arm fell to her side, clutching the shirt.

_DA-DA-DA DUMMMMM!_

She put her face in her hands. It was going to be a long day.

 

 ~~~~~~

 

Jakuzure stepped hurriedly out of her apartment, slamming the door closed behind her and scanning the street for her transport. Not that someone could miss a full size black limousine, even if it wasn’t decked out in silver trim, being driven by Soroi and parked directly in front of her door. She reached the car in three quick steps and gritted her teeth, bracing herself before slipping inside, the door shutting with a _click_ behind her.

“Yo, Nice of you to finally join us, Nonon!” said a familiar voice; a cocky man’s baritone, “Couldn’t decide what to wear?”

“Calm your tits Monkey, a woman needs time to perfect her image! I can’t just pull one of seven identical suits off the rack and throw it on!” she retorted with a sneer, “And what’s with that familiar tone?”

“Well I thought we were all such good friends now!” Sanageyama replied easily, waving one hand in a dismissive gesture, “And I own eight suits, in case something happens to one. I have to look like a professional now you know.”

“You look like a professional hit-man.” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Like I said, professional!” he laughed, slouching back in his seat. It was true, though the formal black business suit he was wearing was finely cut and fitted, his slouch, attitude and shockingly green hair made him look more like an up and coming Yakuza boss than REVOCS’ Head of Acquisitions. Then again, given what she’d heard about his job, maybe that was the right look for him.

“Can the two of you please try and make an effort to be civil?” came a basso rumble that filled the spacious rear of the limousine. “Courtesy and respect are the basis of a successful professional relationship.” Gamagoori said solemnly. He was the same as ever, Jakuzure thought; still looming, bent almost double even in such a spacious vehicle, his own black suit fitted close to his body, to better display the mistakes a person would be making by causing trouble with him. It had to be one of Iori’s creations, she thought idly, because no store sizes finely tailored suits for gorillas or for main battle tanks. All the same, the effect was intimidating and Sanageyama shrugged, nodding his acknowledgment. Jakuzure sighed and nodded to him as well, arms folded over her chest. Gamagoori made a pleased grunt and went back to the itinerary in his hand. Definitely the same; still obsessed over the rules and over Lady Satsuki’s wellbeing, as befit his role as REVOCS’ Head of Security. Some things never change. As that thought crossed her mind, the gangly glasses wearing man to Gamagoori’s left looked up from his phone, finally deigning to notice her.

“Jakuzure.” Inumuta said with a polite nod.

“Inumuta.” Jakuzure said, returning it. _Strange_ , she thought, _No comments, no wit, no snark?_

Within seconds, Inumuta had returned to his phone, tapping at the screen more or less randomly as far as she could tell. _Well_ , she thought worriedly, _This is it. No more people to delay and banter with._  So, with reluctance, she turned her body towards the last person sitting in the back of the car; a tall woman with a regal bearing, short black hair hanging straight down to her neck and dressed in formal business wear; a pantsuit that while utterly proper and professional, clung just perfectly to everything that needed clinging to. _Iori is a genius_ , she thought as she admired the way the fit of the pants drew the eye to the suggestion of lean muscle beneath her-

“Jakuzure?” Satsuki said, her voice questioning, one eyebrow raised. From her tone, it was not the first time she had said her name.

“A-ah, Yes!” Jakuzure said, then internally kicked herself, “Good morning, Lad- I mean, Satsuki!”

Satsuki smiled at her, and Jakuzure felt the headache of the early morning fade away briefly as she did so.

“You looked a little lost there for a moment.”

“It’s just a little early for me.” she said, running a hand through her hair, adjusting her black beret carefully, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Ah, I do apologize, but we have a busy day and I had to start things earlier than I’d care to if we’re to get everything done.” Satsuki said, flicking idly through the contents of a clipboard, “It’s been almost exactly two years since we closed Honnouji Academy, we’re finally ready to debut Iori’s new clothing line and Inumuta’s new phone and fashion app. They’ve worked themselves half to death to meet the deadline.”

“That explains your behavior then, Doggy.” Jakuzure said, almost sympathetically. Inumuta stayed slouched in his seat, tapping at the screen of his new phone. He did nod distractedly, then shook his head, eyes rimmed with deep bags behind his glasses.

“I’ve been answering preview questions and attending online panels all morning. We release tonight at midnight, and I have to be ready to patch any bugs we find in the first four hours. Releasing a phone is bad enough; releasing a phone and a new fashion photography app is ridiculous.” He yawned, pushing his glasses back up his face. “Releasing all that and a line of new clothes that decide the future of our company is bordering on insane.” he said, shooting a glance Satsuki’s way.

Jakuzure turned to Satsuki, expecting to see her rebuke him, but instead the slender woman just smiled.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who planned it.” she said mildly.

“If _I_ remember correctly, you said we didn’t have the time for mediocrity or the money for subtlety, so we had to settle for boldness.”

“Well it was true. We don’t.” she said simply, “If this release goes poorly…” she trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing.

Jakuzure looked Satsuki up and down. It was not immediately obvious under the stunning makeup or the world class outfit, but to someone who had known her long enough a sense of exhaustion could be seen to permeate her being. Her motions lacked the casual grace they normally held, her eyes lacking their customary fire. Jakuzure frowned and considered her words for a moment, then asked;

“Are things really that close? I thought REVOCS was a pretty big company.”

Satsuki grimaced and shook her head, giving a distracted sigh.

“Maybe before, but once we liquidated all the amoral and frankly unethical divisions and fought off three takeover attempts, things were looking grim. Then we threw all our money into these projects. For a long time it looked like we were going to collapse. Hard work, genius and maybe even a little luck have kept us going this long.”

“And w-what if the release is bad?” Jakuzure said, gnawing her lip. She’d had no idea things were this serious.

“Today is Friday.” Satsuki said softly, “If we haven’t sold enough units by midnight Sunday, we won’t be opening our doors on Monday morning.”

Jakuzure stared at her speechless for a long moment, mouth open. Satsuki caught her eye and smiled grimly.

“Don’t fear, Nonon. I have my resolve. If we don’t make our sales, we don’t deserve to be in this business. And on the bright side if we close, you’ll be able to tell the others that you made the right decision not to work for me.” Satsuki said with a weary smile. Jakuzure gaped at her.

“I would never! I just- I have so much I want to do, and my parents keep telling me that I’m going to inherit someday an-and I wanted to be your equal, not your subordinate!” she blurted, over Satsuki’s soft chuckle at her hasty reaction.

“Relax, I was joking!” Satsuki said, waving her hand, “I don’t hold it against you. It’s nice having someone I trust to give me an outside view. And somebody I don’t have to talk about work to all the time.”

 

Jakuzure sat back and frowned slightly in thought as their conversation lapsed into silence and Satsuki went back to her clipboard, eyebrows furrowing at some piece of data. She’d offered jobs to all of the former Elites and to many of the graduates of Honnouji Academy. Jakuzure had been the only one to refuse that she knew of. She often thought about why she’d said no, at least during the times when she thought she knew herself, but most of the time her own motivation was a mystery to her. It wasn’t as if any of the reasons she’d given had been lies exactly, but they didn’t feel like the whole truth either. Either way, she reckoned, she still had plenty on her plate. So while the others slaved away at their new jobs, she slaved away at a college degree, double majoring in Music and Business (Business and Music when her parents asked).

She was far from lonely however; they all lived in roughly the same area and their lives intertwined and touched over several areas. She knew Iori and Inumuta were both attending college, though in different majors, and she’d seen Gamagoori escorting the underachiever to classes, though how on earth the brat was handling pre-med classes she had absolutely no idea. By all accounts, neither did her professors. Combine that with various dinners, activities and days out, she felt anything but excluded from their little group. If anything, they’d expanded, thanks to the surprise addition to her music class; the transfer student, Lady Satsuki’s sister, who had slinked into her first 8am lecture with an utter hatred for the early hour that matched Jakuzure’s own, and a barely concealed excitement for the course material that dwarfed Jakuzure’s completely. Over the past two years, they’d become if not friends, then something that lived in the same neighborhood. Her inclusion into their little group, along with her ever present companion, the underachiever, was no longer seen as a sop to Satsuki’s sisterly instincts and had slowly just become part of the routine. Jakuzure liked Ryuko, on the whole, for her sharp tongue if nothing else. Not that such an admission could be tortured out of her, she mused. She stretched sleepily, a yawn crossing her face, her arms curving out over her head, barely needing to turn aside for the ceiling of the limo.

 

A strange snorting, coughing sound jerked her out of her reverie, making her jump. Her eyes roamed the limo for its source and fixed upon Satsuki, who was wearing an unusual, strained expression on her face.

“Is something wrong?” Jakuzure asked, her heart-rate speeding up as Satsuki’s faced twitched into an expression of discomfort, brows furrowing.

“N-No…” Satsuki murmured a bald faced lie, her tone pained, choking. Jakuzure’s heart turned over, her worry doubling as Satsuki’s shoulders shook slightly. Was she hurt? Was she choking on something?

“W-what is it? What did I do?!” Jakuzure asked, her face pale. Her worried face fell into a blank mask of shock as Satsuki doubled over in her seat, throaty chuckles bubbling up from within her to spill out into the limo, her shoulder shaking, no, _heaving_ with laughter. Jakuzure felt her face heat up as she realized what was happening.

“Oh god…” she said, pouting, drawing her arms tight across her chest with a huff.

“I n-never…” Satsuki began, wiping a tear from her eye as she tried to control herself, “I never thought you’d actual wear it when I bought it you…”

Jakuzure felt her blush rise to the tips of her ears as she scanned around the compartment; Gamagoori’s face was studiously blank, Inumuta was doing that thing where he was laughing behind his stupid sweater and thought no one could tell, while Sanageyama was just laughing at her, face creased into a wide insolent smile. She waved a fist at him.

“This isn’t funny, Monkey!” she growled, “I had a coffee accident, and this is all that survived.”

“Hey now…” Sanageyama said, choking off his laughter, “That shirt would have been my first choice!”

Jakuzure was only ninety percent sure that her face wasn’t actually on fire, but was increasingly sure it was possible to die of embarrassment, a reaction not at all helped by the spontaneous coughing fit Satsuki was suffering from. Catching the side of Jakuzure’s glare, she raised her hands defensively.

“It’s a little funny!” she said, smiling so winningly that Jakuzure forgot to be angry for a moment. “And besides, I like that shirt on you, Nonon.” she said in a mollifying tone. Jakuzure slumped back in her seat, all anger evaporating, unlike her blush, which seemed to be becoming a permanent resident.

“T-thanks.” She managed to choke out, folding her hands in her lap, exposing the baggy white sleeveless shirt bearing in big block letters ‘I Heart Osaka’ above a cityscape of the town. Said cityscape also included, front and center, a large statue bearing a familiar figure with a gold-lined smile, hand holding aloft a wad of bills. It was tacky enough as it was, but for those who remembered Takarada Kaneo, it was hilarious beyond words. Jakuzure still remembered the day Satsuki had given it to her; a gift from a business trip to Osaka to discuss reparations for the damage done in the ‘Life Fiber Conflict’ or whatever official name the two of them were using. The gift had made her go about as red as she was now, and she had sworn several times that she wouldn’t be seen dead in it.

“No, but seriously Jakuzure, I would wear that shirt every goddamn day if you’d lend it me!” Sanageyama butted into her train of thought, his enthusiasm drawing a smile even from Gamagoori. He gestured entreatingly, making a pleading sound, giving her what he probably thought were puppy dog eyes. She grimaced.

“You’d only wear it because as a North Kanto hick you have no idea what fashion is,” she said firmly, “And that’s impressive given that you _work_ for a fashion company!”

“Oi, lay off the North Kanto bashing, midget!”

“Midget!? How dare you! I ought to lend you my shirt, a crop top is definitely an essential part of your wardrobe; it’ll let everyone around you know you have no tact!’

“No tact? I’ll tell you who has no tact-“

Satsuki cleared her throat, silencing the chatter running through the car. Everyone turned obediently towards her, conditioned by long practice. There was a moment of shared amusement as each of them reacted, caught themselves and then looked sheepishly at the others. Habit is a hard thing to break.

“That’s enough bickering you two. Besides, I have a small announcement.” Satsuki said, looking thoughtful. “After the speech, I have someone I want you all to meet. She’ll be joining us at the dinner tonight.”

Inumuta looked up, tilting his head to one side curiously.

“I wasn’t informed of an additional guest on our itinerary.” he said mildly, looking annoyed.

“Neither was I.” rumbled Gamagoori, though in a respectful tone.

“Nevertheless.” Satsuki shrugged, waving one hand to dismiss their complaints. “She’ll be attending. Head table.”

At that, Jakuzure’s ears perked up. Head table meant that she wasn’t just a guest; she was an important one, someone who would be receiving the honor of a place by Satsuki and the four of them.

“It’s not an investor is it?” Jakuzure asked, feigning disinterest.

“No, it’s not.” Satsuki said, coughing awkwardly. After a pause, Jakuzure waited for her to continue, but she did not. She considered being patient and polite for all of ten seconds before she blurted;

“Well who is it then?” she asked, her curiosity bleeding through into her tone. Her hand shot up to tug at her hat, adjusting it on her head, “Tell me it’s not a lifestyle magazine, _please_!”

“No, no, nothing like that, Nonon.” Satsuki said, a very slight tinge of pink appearing at her cheeks. Jakuzure raised her eyebrows as she realized that Kiryuin Satsuki, business woman, modern day samurai and savior of humanity, was nervous. Whoever the mystery guest was, she was important. And not just politically so, but personally important. Jakuzure felt her stomach drop in sudden dread. ‘No way.’ She thought, ‘that is _not_ possible.’

“Well who is she?” Sanageyama asked in a frustrated tone, his sudden interruption jerking her out of her sudden terror. Satsuki shot the tall man an irritated look at his tone, which made him visibly recoil.

“She’s…” Satsuki paused, as if she couldn’t find the right words, “A friend. No one you know. But someone I’m eager for you all to meet.”

 _Well, shit._ Jakuzure thought to herself. Her stomach had wedged down into her hips, and her heart was trying to climb out of her throat. It was hard to imagine, but however blind Jakuzure might be when it came to Kiryuin Satsuki, there was only one sort of person you tried to introduce to your friends like that. She pulled her hat down over her face and pulled out her phone, tapping at the screen idly and trying to stop herself from being sick.

 

The rest of the car ride was far from enjoyable.

 

~~~~~~~


	2. A Bolt From the Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optional Extra: When you see 'Clack!', feel free to play Satsuki's theme. It will make the following speech that much better.

Jakuzure stepped lightly out of the car before it had even fully rolled to a stop. So quick was she that she even beat Soroi, who passed her moments later to hold the door open graciously so Satsuki could step out. Cameras flashed almost immediately and Jakuzure’s mood darkened as she forced herself out of her morning slouch, twisted her hat straight on her head and took a moment to curse the godforsaken shirt one more time. Lifting her head, she pasted a small, impeccably faked smile on her face, courtesy of long training on the insistence of her parents. The clicks and flashes of cameras intensified into a sudden storm as Satsuki rose gracefully out of the car, up to her full height, heels clicking on the sidewalk. For all their commotion, she gave them not a flicker of acknowledgement as she made her way up the steps towards the front of the plaza. Impeccably placed, the wide open square was already filled with a thick row of journalists backed by a raucous crowd, hundreds of people all gathered to see Satsuki’s announcement. The offer of free handouts and a runway demonstration of the new fashion line hadn’t hurt the turnout either.

Satsuki reached the backdrop, the large screen hiding them from the baying crowd, and turned to the figures trailing her. Jakuzure pulled up short, no longer sure of her role in the theatrics, her heart no longer really in it.

“Well, this is it.” Satsuki said, her face impassive but her hands fidgeting, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her pant suit. Behind them, an announcer was blathering to the crowd, extolling the creative virtues of Iori and Satsuki with a whole host of unnecessary adjectives and industry buzzwords.

“You know your roles.” said Satsuki. It was a statement, not a question. The others nodded, save Jakuzure.

“Ummm, not really?” she asked, hating how hesitant she sounded.

_Damn it, why does this always happen around her,_ she thought to herself furiously. To her relief, Satsuki shook her head slowly, not annoyed by the admission.

“Don’t worry, you just have to give me moral support.” she said, a hint of a smile twinkling in her eyes. “I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Right. Moral support. I can do that.” Jakuzure frowned uncertainly, “I’m the most supportive person I know.”

Satsuki gave her a look. “Don’t be sarcastic.” she said, then turned towards the stage, “Oh, it’s time.”

_Good job, moron, let’s keep antagonizing her!_ Jakuzure thought, kicking herself mentally, _That’s the way to her heart, you ass!_

“The one, the only; Kiryuin Satsuki!” the announcer interrupted her train of thought, all but shrieking the words to the crowd’s evident approval.

“That’s our cue.” Satsuki said, already turning to leave. The others trotted after her, walking fast to keep up.

_Here we go,_ thought Jakuzure, clenching her fists, _Just stay calm and don’t trip over your own feet and you’ll be fine. Damn it why do I sound like I’m lying to myself!?_   But before she could settle her ontological quandary they rounded the corner, and the noise of the crowd roared over them like a tidal wave; not so much heard as felt deep in the stomach, rising up like a thrumming wall of sound. Jakuzure however, did not spare them even a moment. Her eyes were fixed upon Kiryuin Satsuki, who raised her chin slightly in acknowledgement, as if the crowd was an acquaintance passing her in the street. Kiryuin Satsuki, who strode up to the podium like a woman coming home, like a god ascending Mount Olympus, like…

Jakuzure’s mind failed her. She couldn’t find words to describe Satsuki. She merely _was_.

_Clack!_

The noise of her heel hitting the floor was such a commanding sound that the roar of the crowd cut off for the briefest of moments. Only for a second did the cheers and clapping falter, but in that moment her voice rang out as loud and as clear and as hypnotically charismatic as it had ever been atop Honnouji Academy.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” she said to deafening silence, “I put a question to you. What is fashion?”

Silence reigned over the plaza in a moment of utter tension. Then Satsuki’s hands came slamming down onto the podium and she seemed to grow somehow, not in size but in spirit, a golden radiance rising up from her.

“The world is fashion!” she said, and the silence broke into cheers. “Fashion is more than what you wear! It is how you wear it. How you act, how you think and feel and live!” she said, gesturing with one hand as if to encapsulate the world. Jakuzure stared at her, heart pounding her chest, hanging on every word.

_She’s beautiful,_ she thought helplessly, _she’s beautiful and every time she looks like that I fall in love with her all over again_. Her face flushed at the thought and she tore her eyes away from Satsuki, suddenly unable to look at her, forcing herself to scan the crowd instead, smiling her fake smile at the hungry eyes of lenses and spectators.

“And people…” Satsuki said, her voice lowering to a stage whisper, “People are the rulers of this world. People are the rulers of fashion.” She continued, her voice rising up just as the crowd leaned forwards, fixated upon her words, enraptured by the golden radiance, by the passion evident in every syllable.

“And I, Kiryuin Satsuki, am here to carry out your will!” she said, voice rising to a shout, hand raised in salute.

Jakuzure looked over the crowd, eyes flitting from one face to another, the multitude of emotions sweeping across their faces as she looked. It felt almost voyeuristic as a pastime, but it wasn’t as if she could take her phone out and amuse herself, not with every journalist in the city filming just twenty feet away. So she stood to one side, reading the open books of their expressions; slack jawed amazement, for one. Exhilarated happiness for many, lean hunger and a desire for either the clothing or the woman on display atop the stage, she couldn’t tell. Elation, joy, rage, exhilaration; they all blended together into-

 

Wait, _rage_?

 

Jakuzure’s eyes snapped back across to a man in the journalist section, a press badge clipped to his jacket and a camera over one shoulder. Everything about him fit the scene but his face; his lips were drawn in a tight line, his expression fixed into something that might have been mistaken for discomfort, except for his eyes.

“REVOCS was created for such a purpose!” Satsuki gestured again, drawing Jakuzure’s attention back to her as the backdrop rippled through the new designs, murmured appreciation sweeping its way through the crowd and up to the stage. When Jakuzure looked back to the crowd, he was gone. Frowning internally, but smiling for the cameras, she roamed her eyes over the journalists filming the event, trying to find him again with no success. After nearly a minute of no success she surrendered, wondering if her brain had made him up to try and jolt her out of boredom. Or maybe to relieve her of her earlier embarrassments. She was questioning her own sanity when suddenly she saw him again, closer now, in the front rank of the camera-waving figures making up the foremost members of the crowd.

_No one else seems to have noticed him,_ she thought, then chided herself, _Obviously. Because he’s not doing anything. One annoyed journalist who probably hates fashion or something is not worth getting worked up over. Damn, you’re out of sorts today._ She sighed, putting the idea out of her mind. At least, she tried. But the man was still there, and his eyes still burned with an unnerving intensity, fixed upon the podium.

“Our new line will become a foundation for what is to come!” Satsuki said, raising both her hands, as if holding the admiration, devotion and desire of the crowd in her cupped palms. Then she lowered her head and her hands in one smooth gesture.

“And we consider it an honor.” She bowed, and the men around her followed sync, bowing at the waist to rapturous applause. Jakuzure caught on a moment later and bowed, lowering her eyes briefly. When she raised them again, the man was over the barricade that separated the crowd from the stage. She broke out in a cold sweat as she straightened up. Glancing right, she saw Satsuki holding her bow, and realized that only a second had passed. Time seemed to slow as her eyes flickered back to the man, only to find him halfway to the stage, his eyes burning with absolute fury. He wrenched at the camera in his hands and it broke in half as if held only lightly together. And when his hand came out from within it, it held a small, ugly looking handgun, barely bigger than his clenched fist.

 

Satsuki raised her head up from the bow, straightening to her feet. Judging by the cheers, the reaction was just as exuberant as she had hoped. She allowed herself a smile, which danced across her face as if offered to every member of the crowd individually. It was only then she noticed the man. He was running; running towards her, badge fluttering and bouncing on his chest, the word ‘Press’ written on it in both Japanese and English. At first she thought he was an over-eager reporter after the first interview, but then she saw his hand raise from the hollow shell of his camera, a gun rising out of the box like some sort of macabre magic trick. Dimly, she heard Gamagoori roar, heard him take a step, then another. The ten feet he was away seemed like ten miles now, and the gun was already levelled at her, the tiny circumference of its barrel like an accusing finger pointing up at her. She heard Sanageyama curse as an aide got in his way, tripping him. Her brain raced through potential options, attacks, and defenses. None were useful; most were suicidal. She felt the soft, icy hands of fear try to seal themselves around her heart, warring with the iron will it found there. She felt disbelief rise up in her, the scenario suddenly seeming so absurd she almost laughed. After all this, a whole war, conspiracy and betrayal since the age of five, and she was going to be shot at a _press conference_? _For a fashion line?_ She heard her breath, surprisingly steady for the adrenaline running through her. She felt the drape of her jacket, the way it slightly slowed her movement, tugging at her shoulders. She smelt the scent of last night’s rain, and saw the fury written in the man’s eyes. She saw him in so much detail that she felt like he was an old friend, or some long lost relative recalled in a burst of clarity. It was as if her brain had decided that if it catalogued every aspect, every iota of this current moment, then the next would never come.

 

_Who are you,_ she thought to herself, trapped in a second that seemed to last a year, _What did I do to you that you could look at me like that?_

 

The moment ended. The gun barked, and the bullet slammed into her, sending her back and to one side in a graceless tumble.

_It doesn’t hurt,_ she thought wonderingly, back pressed to the cold stone of the floor, _I must be going into shock._

She looked down, trying to find the wound and saw only her unblemished suit. She heard the gun bark again, and her eyes shot up in time to see…

 

…Jakuzure Nonon standing there, back facing her and body set in rigid shock, her arms open wide. Jakuzure Nonon, who had crossed the stage faster than Gamagoori, faster than Sanageyama, faster than she believed possible. Jakuzure Nonon, whose leg exploded into a mass of blood as a second bullet hit her, sending her toppling to the ground, her knee a bloody ruin.

_No,_ she thought simply, all other thought banished from her mind. _Not Nonon. There’s been some kind of mistake._

Satsuki tried to get up, tried to do something, but it felt as if she were moving through treacle. She heard the man curse, roaring at Jakuzure to get out of the way. Jakuzure had sunk to her knees, hands clutching her stomach, but she did not move. She didn’t know if it was shock or bravery that kept her there between the assassin and his target, but either way she did not move.

_It wasn’t the bullet._ Satsuki thought as her brain caught up with events, _Jakuzure pushed me aside!_

Just as the realization hit, the man swore and another shot broke the silence. It twisted Jakuzure around, as if it were a strong gust of wind, and blood flew. She fell like a puppet with the strings cut.

Satsuki stared at her, uncomprehending. Maybe ten seconds had passed since the man had drawn a weapon, and only now did screams rise up from the crowd. Before the man could fire another shot, there was a heavy whoosh of displaced air, and the entire wooden podium Satsuki had been speaking at hit him like the wrath of god, shattering into its cheap framework, sending him tumbling down the stage and sending the gun skittering out of his hands. Gamagoori roared again, more animal than man, and security flooded the stage like a flock of startled crows, darting this way and that, getting in each other’s way.

She barely noticed. Kneeling above Jakuzure, she rolled her onto her back to assess her injuries.

_This isn’t right._ Satsuki thought again, _I’m the brave one. I’m the stoic one ready to die for her cause. This is totally off script. And it’s too fast. This isn’t right._ Her inner monologue was starting to sound a little hysterical.

Jakuzure was shaking weakly, blood seeping out from between her fingers where they closed around her chest, an almost comically small entry wound turning the white of her ‘I Heart Osaka’ shirt into a deep crimson.

_I bought her that shirt._ Satsuki thought, the notion jolted to the forefront of her brain. Dimly, she thought she must be panicking. _I bought it after she said she would never wear something so tacky. I wanted to see if she’d wear it for me._ The thought almost made her smile, and instead her shoulders shook with the beginnings of a sob. Mechanically, she followed the triage skills drilled into her, shrugging out of her jacket and pressing it to the chest wound, watching it stain scarlet as an inexorable flow pumped steadily into the fabric.

Jakuzure’s eyes fluttered open, fixing on Satsuki’s face for a moment before unfocusing. They were glassy, darting around as if she couldn’t see properly, and Satsuki grabbed her hand, wrapping her long fingers around it to reassure her. Jakuzure’s fingers were very slender, surprisingly muscular and very cold. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but instead she only made a small, pained sound that could not be readily identified as human. Blood flecked her lips, bubbling up in a foam that muffled anything she might have said.

“Hang on, Nonon!” Satsuki blurted, finding her voice, “Stay with me!” she demanded, hating the desperate tone in her words. Jakuzure frowned up at her, her breathing slow and clear for a moment. She opened her mouth, lips forming a word, then her breath turned ragged as a series of wracking coughs splattered a fine mist of blood across Satsuki’s face and chest. She shuddered once, then her eyes rolled up and she passed out with a small whimper of pain.

 

Satsuki looked up, eyes going flat as she found the man facing off against a dozen of her security team. He had retrieved his gun, but a loose circle of men surrounded him, blocking any exit or attack. The ice filled her heart, spreading outwards and taking with it any thoughts of Jakuzure, any thoughts of mercy, compassion or fear. In her mind she was stood behind her mother, sword drawn. She was facing Nui, swords clashing against scissor. She was facing her father as he revealed the truth of the world to her. Her hands stopped shaking.

_I’m going to kill him,_ she thought simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She reached with one hand to Bakuzan, only to find it missing. Its lack disturbed her for only a second, and slowed her for less than that.

_No matter. I am Kiryuin Satsuki. I am a weapon. I shall tear him apart with my bare hands for what he has done._ She thought, as she rose to her feet, hands clenching into fists. She lifted one foot to begin her attack, but a pair of huge arms suddenly encircled her, pulling her backwards.

“Lady Satsuki!” Gamagoori said, spinning her so that he was between her and the assassin, “We must retreat!”

The ice shattered, and mixed with the rage boiling up inside her, burning up and out of her in a rush.

“Damn you, Gamagoori!” She roared, trying to break free of his grasp. Behind her, she heard the gun go off again, and someone cried out. “Let me go!” she demanded. He ignored her, lifting her bodily off of her feet when she refused to cooperate.

“Damn it, save Jakuzure! Save Nonon!” she said, driving a heel into his stomach, making him hiss out a breath in pain. He didn’t respond, except to tighten his grip around her, carrying her towards the backstage and their waiting car. She was incoherent; screaming, yelling and cursing at him, kicking at his legs and stomach.

She saw Sanageyama following them, his business suit flapping open, a short tanto gleaming wickedly in the reflections of the stage lights, though where he had produced it from she didn’t know. His face was set in an expression of utter fury, fury enough to rival what she’d seen in the eyes of the man who had just tried to kill her. Gamagoori all but threw her into the car, climbing in after her. Sanageyama slammed a fist onto the roof and slipped inside as they accelerated suddenly, engine roaring as Soroi sent the car screeching around the nearest corner and into the traffic of the city.

 

Jakuzure blinked her eyes open with herculean effort. The left one wouldn’t open; it felt hot and sticky as if it had been glued closed. The right described the winter sky in fuzzy detail, at least until Inumuta leaned over her, blocking her view of it, pressing Satsuki’s jacket to her chest.

“H-help is on its way.” he said, sounding one step short of hysteria, “Stay calm.”

“S-speak for yourself…” she managed to whisper, the words almost indistinguishable beneath the bloody, bubbling froth that appeared whenever she tried to speak. Her body hurt, or at least her chest did. It felt as if someone had stabbed her with a red hot poker straight into her heart. At the moment, she was more concerned by the way the rest of her didn’t hurt nearly as much. Or really at all. A languorous sense of relaxation was filling her limbs, as if she were soaking in a hot bath. She was willing to bet that wasn’t a good sign. Turning her head slightly, she saw Gamagoori turn the corner behind the stage, carrying Satsuki bodily in both arms, Sanageyama following them like a shadow.

_I got her to safety,_ she thought happily, through a delirious haze, _At least she’s safe. I was useful. I finally helped her for once, instead of relying on her like I have all these years._

When her attention returned to the present, she realized some time had passed, though she didn’t know how much. She thought she should be concerned by that too, but it was getting harder to be concerned about anything by the second. Iori was kneeling by her side as men in scrubs and fluorescent jackets picked her up. She was on some kind of back board, being loaded into an ambulance. Her vision was blurrier than ever and it was hard to concentrate on staying awake. Inumuta’s face slid across her vision and his lips moved, but whatever he said was lost in the deafening noise of her heartbeat, which was getting obnoxiously loud.

 

_Thump-Thump_

_Thump!-Thump!_

_THUMP!-THUMP!_

It sang in her head, rising up like a drum beat until it eclipsed everything else, sending her dizzily into unconsciousness. She wanted to say her last conscious thoughts had been of Lady Satsuki, but really, they’d simply been a bone deep, quietly frantic voice inside her;

 

_I don’t want to die._

_I don’t want to die._

_I don’t want to die._

_Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-_

_Idon’twanttodie-_ _Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-_

_ Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-Idon’twanttodie-_

_   _Idon’twanttodie-__

Consciousness surrendered to oblivion, and in a rush, oblivion swallowed her whole.

 

 

Satsuki slumped back into the seat of the limo, roaring through the streets at dangerously high speeds, sending traffic swerving from its path as Soroi calmly pushed the machine to its limits to put as much distance between them and the plaza as possible. She coughed and took a racking, shuddering breath as she remembered to breathe, cursing her weakness. That single breath opened the floodgates and seconds later she felt as if she couldn’t get enough air, hyperventilating in the back of the car, stunned by what had just happened. She put one hand to her chest to try and control her unruly lungs, then pulled away as if burned when she felt warm stickiness against her. She looked down. Her hands were smeared, stained red. Stained in blood. Jakuzure’s blood. She shut her eyes, shoulders shaking as she stifled a sob, refusing to give in to her emotions.

“…damn it.” She whispered, “Damn it all.”

Sanageyama was talking into a cellphone, his urgent low tones blurring into the background as the sounds of traffic rose, swallowing the world in a haze of white noise.

A firm, gentle hand took hold of her wrist and lifted her hand. Her eyes fluttered open to see Gamagoori calmly wipe some of the blood from her hand with a small white towel. He performed the chore carefully, as if he were defusing a bomb, running the cloth up and around each of her fingers. The blood mostly got pushed around, sunk into the scars and lines of her skin to turn it a pale crimson. Nevertheless he continued the hopeless task; a robotic Sisyphus, his face so utterly blank it might have been carved from stone.

Satsuki sat there, crowded and alone with her thoughts. They swirled through her head like a hurricane. No, like a blizzard hiding the pathways of thought from her, obscuring sense and reason. She shook her head. In some stray corner of her mind, she was aware that she was in shock, that she was not acting as she should. The ice around her heart had melted since the end of the war. She was human again. She was _weak._

_I thought we were done,_ she thought to herself, _World saved, war won. I thought I could relax. It’s so tiring, being made of iron. I thought I could be myself finally._ Satsuki frowned, trying to throw off the blanketing feelings of hopelessness. For a few moments she succeeded, then a treacherous part of her brain suggested;

_What if the last thing I said to her was “Don’t be sarcastic”?_  She thought despairingly, before shaking her head. _No. She’ll be okay. And I…I will be okay. We are both stronger than this,_ she said to herself, gritting her teeth. She clenched a fist, nails digging into her palm. It focused her mind, the pain sharpening her thoughts.

 

She looked up, light returning to her eyes. It was not time to hide, or weep, or mourn. Those things would come later, or not at all.

“Sanageyama, report.” She said, voice like iron.

He looked up, expression flicking through a whole shade of emotions; surprise, relief, acknowledgement and finally, respect.

“Jakuzure is on her way to the hospital. Inumuta and Iori are with her.”

“She’s alive?” her voice came out harder, more urgent than she intended. Sanageyama nodded.

“She is. She’s…” he paused, considering his words carefully, “Her…her chances are not good.”

Satsuki’s stomach dropped. Her nails dug into her flesh, knuckles popping almost audibly.

“Explain.” She demanded.

“She’s lost a lot of blood. Multiple gunshot wounds. She’s been slipping in and out of consciousness. Inumuta is concerned about internal injuries. He made them divert to a facility better equipped for her needs.”

“I consider that the correct judgment.” She said simply, trying to keep her emotions in check at Sanageyama’s clinical description of Jakuzure’s injuries. Her anger was rising though, and she met his eyes.

“Unlike your decision to help drag me away.” She said, her voice icy. Her gaze made Sanageyama blanch, lowering his eyes, unable to meet that furious stare. The stare panned across the car until it landed upon Gamagoori, who faced it without flinching. Somehow, that unflinching response made her angrier.

“What, no defense? Nothing to say?!” she spat, turning to face him, fists clenched.

“Yes.” He said softly, his voice gravelly and low, “Do not be foolish.”

His simple declaration caught her off guard as much for its content as its tone. Gamagoori seldom spoke below a certain…volume, that was true. But more importantly than that; he _never_ criticized her. Not since they had faced each other, since he had held the position of Student Council President at some no name school so many years ago, had he been anything less than respectful to her. She froze, off balance.

“I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice rising in pitch, incredulous. Gamagoori faced her, meeting her stare.

“We might no longer be your Elite Four,” he began, his voice rough with emotion, “but we have always known what had to be done if you were ever in danger. There is not a single one of us who would have hesitated to do what Jakuzure has done. Do not dishonor her sacrifice in preserving your life by risking it any further.”

Satsuki stared at him for a long moment, caught between anger and shame. Eventually it was sheer exhaustion and perhaps a hint of shame that sent her fists lowering to her sides and her eyes downwards.

“Soroi, head for the house for now,” she said softly, “I trust that is safe enough for you?” she added to Gamagoori. He shook his head wearily but did not contradict her, letting the rest of the ride pass in awkward silence, broken only by Sanageyama making calls and taking reports. That left Satsuki alone with her thoughts, the blizzard closing in again until her head felt heavy with regret.

 

“Please, Nonon. Be okay.” she whispered, “Hold on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, thank you for 100+ views, thank you for your kudos. Thank you for your forgiveness for what I do to Jakuzure Nonon in the name of Drama.  
> Yes it is sudden, but so are all such things. That's where their scariness comes from. A day like this feels like any other day until that moment. Hence, the chapter title.  
> Feel free to comment below, and once more; thanks for reading. See you next chapter.


	3. Out of Sorts

The fair weather of the morning had turned foul by the time they reached the town house Satsuki currently called home. A small but stately building in a traditional style, it looked older than it was, deliberately invoking a kind of rustic simplicity. It sat in a cul-de-sac of several other expensive houses, and while it’s small but charming garden and French windows made it seem inviting; the scrolling wrought iron fence was a little too clean and thick to be merely decorative, the walls a little too high to be merely fashionable. The gates swung open as the car arrived, and Soroi pulled the car to a halt before the doors of the house, letting the gates close behind them with a reassuring thump. Satsuki climbed out of the car and all but stumbled into the house in a haze, ghosted by her two companions. A pair of black suited men opened the front door for her wordlessly, their faces barely hiding their shock. They had heard of an incident but they certainly didn’t expect the Lady of the House, fists clenched, splattered in blood, accompanied by the Head of Security and a tall, lean man holding a bared blade casually in one hand.

 

Satsuki headed upstairs, barely aware of the two men following her. They were more than a little surprised when she took a quick left at the top of the stairs, slipped into what appeared to be a small bedroom, and quietly but firmly shut the door behind her, leaving the two of them inspecting the mahogany doorframe. They looked at each other for a moment, then Gamagoori nodded to the stairs.

“Go on, keep the coordination going. I’ll watch her.” he said, slipping easily into his parade-rest stance before the door. Sanageyama looked at him warily, then sighed, shaking his head.

“Right. Long day already. What is it, nine o’clock?” he said, running a hand through the disarray atop his head.

“Half past.” Gamagoori corrected him without missing a beat, punctual as always. “See you later.”

Sanageyama didn’t reply, he just turned and made his way back downstairs, waving goodbye over his head as he did so. His footsteps retreated until there was nothing but empty silence in the hallway.

Gamagoori allowed himself a small frown. Everyone was out of sorts today.

 

Satsuki looked around her bedroom blankly; the room was the same as it always was. Neat, functional, empty. It wasn’t that there weren’t things in the room. On the contrary; a small bookshelf on one wall, an alarm clock by the bed, even a small desk and a computer sat in a small alcove to one side. It was something else, something harder to define. There were no photo frames, no pictures of smiling family or group of friends. There was no mess; no clothes on chair, bed or floor. No plates or glasses, not even an empty teacup. The lack of these things made the room seem empty somehow. Unlived in; a showpiece waiting for a buyer perhaps, or a hotel room between guests. Therefore the room gained a note of dissonance when Satsuki tossed her suit jacket negligently onto the floor in an untidy heap. She headed for the bathroom, unbuttoning her shirt. That took her almost a minute, hands shaking as her fingers slipped over the sticky blood smeared across the middle few buttons. Then the shirt was peeled off and discarded by the door to the bathroom. She shucked out of her pants and leaned out with one hand to start the shower.

_What I really want is a bath to get rid of this blood,_ she thought, before her mind caught up to her and she shuddered, though the room was quite warm. _Actually, a shower will be fine._

She stripped out of her underwear with quick, efficient motions, tossing them lightly aside. Then she paused, about to step into the shower, as if she’d forgotten something.

_Surely we can skip this,_ she told herself. _It’s getting ridiculous._

She tried to pull the shower door aside and let herself in, but her hand was shaking so badly she actually missed the handle on the first attempt. She hissed out an exasperated breath between her teeth and swore.

_Damn it, alright, alright!_ She thought, turning back to the door. _You win again._

Carefully, she shut the door of the bathroom, and reached down to lock the door. Then she reached up to draw across the bolt. It didn’t match the rest of the door in style or in color, and the steel still gleamed with newness. She sighed and rested her head against the door in surrender for a moment.

_Pathetic, Satsuki, pathetic._ She told herself, hands clenching into fists. After a long minute she turned and slid the door of the shower open, stepping into the molten hot spray without a shout or complaint. Instead she made only a long sighing sound as the heavy hammering of the hot water eased the strain in her shoulders and back, beating out its rhythm down her spine. She spun around to let the water hit her front, and had to bite her lip as she saw the pinkish tinge the water took, sluicing Jakuzure’s blood from her chest and her hands. She scrubbed at her palms and her fingers, working into the cracks to clean away the stains, washing her best friend’s blood out from under her fingernails. Outwardly she appeared calm, rational, and mechanical; inside she felt the haze of guilt and shame slowly becoming anger, as if the heat of the shower were boiling the blood within her veins.

_How dare he attack Jakuzure!? How dare he harm her!? Who did he think he was, taking a shot at me? He’s a dead man. But not before he tells me who put him up to it, oh no. He’ll tell me that first. Then he’ll beg for death. I’ll hurt him twice over for everything Nonon has suffered, I’ll-_   A choked sob broke Satsuki’s train of thought, and a beat later she realized she was crying. Her hands were balled into fists, knuckles white and nails digging painfully into her palms, and her breath was coming heavy and feral between her clenched teeth. She could feel her heart pounding, feel the need to take revenge welling up in her stomach, rising up through her chest and throat as if it would escape her body in a roar.

_You feel like you need to act because you did nothing,_ the treacherous voice of reason said softly, _You felt helpless, so now you want to do something to avert that. It’s only natural._

Satsuki swore under her breath. She was right. Her body was shaking with unused adrenaline while helpless guilt, shame and anger warred for control of her emotions. She turned the taps sideways until the water was virtually ice, using it to dampen the flames within her. With the anger gone, at least for now, all she felt was tired. Exhaustion made her feel giddy and lightheaded, made her clumsy as she mechanically soaped her body. Even now, she barely noticed the way that her hands skirted the swell of her breasts, sliding over and under rather than across. Similarly, she didn’t notice the way her hands moved in small circles across her stomach, drifting sideways instead of down past her navel, hands unconsciously finding excuses not to travel lower. She rinsed off, twirling under the showerhead for a moment before cutting the water off and stepping out. She grabbed a fluffy white towel almost as large as she was, wrapping it around her in one smooth spin. Then she grabbed a smaller tower, lifted it to her hair then paused. Her lips made a thin line in annoyance as she forgot for the umpteenth time that her hair now barely came past her chin, and tossed the towel back onto the rack.

By the time she’d dried herself and her hair, the adrenaline had leech out of her body, leaving her limbs feeling leaden, all her energy drained. Slowly she slumped back onto the bed, rolling her blanket over her body and tucking herself in.

_I’ll have a quick nap,_ she thought, _Just to get my energy back…_

 

When she opened her eyes the dappled orange and purples of sunset were filtering through the curtains, turning her sheets into a gently swirling maelstrom of hues. She blinked her eyes blearily, then rolled onto her back with a sigh. The sheets slid over her, clinging to the dampness of her bare skin suddenly. Her eyes snapped open and her breath came hard and fast, her heart hammering in her chest. Panicking, she kicked the sheets away, thrashing with all four limbs to be free until the sheets flumped onto the floor in a heap. Conscious thought returned as she lay on her back, naked in the center of the bed, pulse racing in her neck, fists raised defensively, her legs curled up around her.

“Damn it…” she swore softly, “Not again. We’ve been over this.”

Slowly, she forced her fists to unclench, flexing her fingers to work the tension out of them. Far from being relaxed, she felt like every muscle in her body was tensed and under pressure, like a spring wound so tight it was about to snap. She pushed herself off the bed, glancing at the clock on the nightstand as she did so.

_7:57pm,_ she thought, _That’s the first time in a while I’ve slept for so long._

She paused in the middle of the room as she heard a small sound outside. A tiny scuff, perhaps somebody readjusting their stance. She sighed and threw on a robe, padding to the door and opening it halfway so she could poke her head out into the corridor. Or at least she would have done, if the opening door hadn’t revealed Gamagoori’s tall, muscled silhouette taking up almost the entire doorway.

_I don’t believe it,_ she sighed internally, _He’s still here._

“Gamagoori?” she said, her voice strained. He turned his head; there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Lady Satsuki?” he said, and for a moment it seemed as if he might salute. He settled for straightening slightly.

“Why are you still outside my door?” she asked in her most patient tone.

“Because I’m your Head of Security, and somebody just tried to kill you.” He said simply, his voice defying her to find an argument bypassing that logic. She grimaced, her lips thinning into a firm line.

“Yes, well. We need to talk about that. Assemble today’s so-called security detail downstairs. The dojo should be big enough. We’ll need plenty of space to accommodate their idiocy.” she said scathingly.

For a moment, Gamagoori didn’t speak, but then he nodded his head shakily and withdrew, heavy feet clumping down the stairway with evident reluctance.

 

She took a few minutes to compose herself, dressed in silence and headed downstairs, calm and measured footsteps taking her to the house’s dojo. She slid aside the door and stepped in, barefoot and ready to deliver a lecture that would burn the ears off her security detail. Or at least, it would have done, if they had actually been there. Instead of a row of black suited men and women sweating nervously, there was just one man standing firmly at attention in the center of the room.

“Gamagoori.” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “I’m beginning to grow tired of your defiance.”

Gamagoori said nothing, but a bead of sweat trickled down from his hairline at one temple.

“Where are they?” she asked, pressing on.

“I have sent them home. Their replacements are already on duty.”

“That is contrary to my instructions.” She said, her voice ice. Gamagoori gulped audibly.

“Lady Satsuki, they have suffered enough. Several of them are hurt; three of them badly.”

“That’s only fitting given their incompetence.” She snorted, making a dismissive gesture, “I want them here.”

Gamagoori stood almost motionless; sweat dripped from his brow and his muscles must have ached from his rigid stance, but he did not move.

“I must regretfully refuse, my Lady.” He said, with evident difficulty. Her temper flared.

“Are you disobeying my orders, Gamagoori?” she asked, in the same tone one would say ‘Does the accused have any last words?’ Gamagoori did not falter, shaking his head ruefully.

“I am obeying my conscience, my Lady. This is not the right thing to do, nor the right time to do it.” He said.

“I didn’t ask for your advice.” She said icily, her fists clenching. Unconsciously, she had been closing the distance between the two of them and now her feet were planted belligerently only inches from his.

 

“ _Exactly._ ” he said simply. That made her stop, her mouth falling open in sudden surprise. He evidently took this as a sign to continue.

“You have not asked for my advice. Or Sanageyama’s. Despite the fact that we are your companions. Despite the fact _I_ am your Security Chief…your impenetrable shield.” He rasped, a rough edge to his voice that she had heard only a scant few times before. She gaped at him.

“…And if anyone is…is to blame…” he began, and she saw tears forming in his eyes, “T-then surely it is I, for failing so thoroughly-“

“Gamagoori!” she exclaimed, and without thinking she reached out a hand and grasped his shoulder firmly, squeezing it in reassurance. It was as if the action broke a dam; Gamagoori wept fiercely and without shame, his head bowed as she held his shoulder. Through choked sounds, he panted;

“I thought…I thought he’d killed you.”

“So did I.” she said softly, unaware she’d spoken out loud. She shook her head, tears prickling her eyes.

“I’ve been half the boss you deserve.” she whispered, “And none of the friend.”

They stayed like that for a minute, maybe two, before Gamagoori had sufficiently recovered enough to sniffle,

“We should call the hospital, my lady, there may be news.”

She nodded, pulling away from him and straightening her clothing. She nodded briskly, feeling awkward, off balance. Everyone was tired, ragged and out of sorts. She welcomed the idea of some formality, something familiar.

“Grab Sanageyama and meet me upstairs. We’ll conference with Inumuta from the office.” She said, already leaving, eager to be alone again for a few moments. She felt as if she couldn’t stand being still, walking faster than she needed to, taking the stairs two at a time. She let herself into the office, flicking on the lights and booting up her computer. She was setting up the call when Soroi came in, placed a cup and saucer of strong black tea by her side, and left without a word, though the way he lingered briefly at the door spoke volumes. Even he was worried about her, she mused.

 

Gamagoori came in several minutes later, his suit unruffled and his face clean of any trace of his earlier outburst, his expression set firmly into a mask of professional integrity. By contrast Sanageyama was nervous; on edge and antsy. He took a seat, thought about putting his feet up and decided against it. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them and then finally stood. He ran a hand through his hair and paced back and forth as Satsuki connected the call. The office was large, but not particularly spacious, and he could take only four or five steps before he had to turn or hit a wall. Eventually Gamagoori let out an exasperated sigh and took a grip on his sleeve, pulling him firmly into a chair. Sanageyama shot him a vicious look, which was returned with a studied look of indifference from the big man.

 

“Inumuta here.” came their friend’s voice over the call; loud but somewhat muddled by voices, chattering sounds and what sounded like an intercom in the background. There was the sound of footsteps then a door closing, cutting off the background noise suddenly.

“Report.” Satsuki said, taking a deep breath and holding it. With trepidation, Gamagoori noticed the tea sitting on her desk was untouched, wisps of steam no longer drifting up from it. There was a pause as Inumuta put his thoughts together. He started a sentence and broke off awkwardly, then sighed and begun again.

“Jakuzure is alive.” He said simply, the words heavy and tired, “For now.”

Satsuki winced, her eyebrows furrowing unconsciously.

“She’s in surgery right now. This is the third or fourth, I’ve lost count.” Inumuta admitted, showing just how tired he must have been.

_He never misses an opportunity to grandstand,_ Satsuki thought, _He must be dead on his feet._

“How bad are her injuries?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Bad.” Inumuta said simply, “She was shot three times; the first hit her chest on the left side, pierced a lung and hit a back rib. They think it’s still there. The second shot hit her knee, shattered her patella and disintegrated. The third shot hit her side above her left hip obliquely and passed through. They think it may have nicked a kidney and caused some internal damage.”

Satsuki realized that her hands were burning, and looked down to see spots of blood where nails had dug into the skin of her palms from the strength of her clenched fists. She laid her hands flat on the table and frowned.

“How is the surgery going? What are they doing?” she asked, hating how little they knew.

“They seem to be focused on damage control.” Inumuta admitted, his voice wavering slightly, “There was some medical talk out of my depth, but they seemed to be worried about organ damage and sepsis. They’ve patched her lung successfully for now at least, but she’s not out of the woods yet.”

Satsuki cocked her head; she’d known Inumuta for a long time, and as uncharacteristic as his current reticence was, she knew him well enough to catch the tone of his voice when he was being evasive.

“What else?” she said firmly, “You’re holding back.”

There was a long pause and if it wasn’t for the muffled sounds of the hospital behind him, Satsuki would have thought he had hung up on her. She considered berating him, but remembered Gamagoori’s tears, and decided instead to trust him.

“Even if everything goes perfectly…” he began hesitantly, “She might never walk again. Or she might lose the leg below the knee. And lung damage is difficult to treat. She might not be able to play half her instruments again either.” He said, his explanation unnaturally slow, voice pitched low and upset.

_For all their bickering he really does care about her,_ she thought, before looking up. The two of them were looking at her strangely and Sanageyama was half out of his chair again.

“What?” she asked, annoyed at their stares. She heard a creaking, grinding sound and glanced down.

Her fingers were digging deep grooves in the top of the table, blood staining the dark wood, fingernails nearly torn with the strength of the grip. Her eyes widened and she lifted her hands suddenly, as if the wood were burning her.

 

_I’m tired._ Her inner voice sighed, _I slept for hours and woke up more tired than when I went to bed._

_Go ahead, evade._ A soft voice inside her head whispered. This voice was not reflective or tired. It was mocking.

_Think about yourself. Obsess over your beauty sleep. Anything not to think of your dying friend, hmm?_

She gritted her teeth, aware that somebody had spoken in the room, but unaware what they had said.

_You heard Inumuta; dead or at the least, crippled. It’s not enough for you to take her life to preserve yours, you had to take her music from her too? That’s cold, even for an Ice Queen like you._

_Like us._ She thought fiercely. _And shut up._

“Lady Satsuki?” Inumuta was saying, probably wondering if she’d hung up on him this time.

“…Yes, Inumuta?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, voice blank, emotionless.

“They have the culprit in custody; one Sasaki Otoya.” he said softly, carefully as if trying not to startle her.

“I see.” She said, “That’s good.” Inumuta paused, waiting for the explosion.

“He’s been taken to the local jail in Kanegawa.” He said gently, like a man probing an injury to see just how much it would hurt.

“Understood.” She said calmly, “I’ll be at the hospital first thing tomorrow. Gamagoori and Sanageyama will be joining you, I think.” She looked up at them, “Consider yourselves on leave.”

“I’m…going to keep up with the work.” Inumuta said firmly, “It’ll be chaos otherwise. And Iori says that he’ll make all his interviews. The work still has to be done, even if there’s no one to do it.”

“Do as you wish.” Satsuki said tiredly, “I’m going to bed.”

“I see.” Inumuta sounded worried, “Good night, Lady Satsuki.”

“One last thing, while everyone is here. Be sure to tell Iori this too, Inumuta.” Satsuki said, her voice low and dangerous. The two men glanced up at her, faces concerned. Inumuta made a small sound of agreement.

“No one is to touch him. No one is to so much as _think_ about revenge. Am I perfectly understood?”

There was a gaping pause as her words sunk in. They had been said with such calm, understated anger that it took their breath away. There was no threat in them, just a simple bone-deep belief that either they obeyed, or they died.

“U-Understood.” They said quickly, as her gaze came up to meet theirs one after the other. Even Inumuta, when faced by that dangerous silence, didn’t hesitate to agree.

They withdrew just as quickly, all too aware of the waves of hostility and anger that burned up from her like a physical aura. Only when she was alone did she let out a long breath and stand up, walking around the desk and heading for her bedroom. On the way she paused, looking to one side, her eyes fixing upon her wall ornament. Her fists clenched again.

 

Sanageyama stopped in the hallway, pausing in the act of shrugging into his jacket. Gamagoori looked up at him.

“What is it?” he asked, zipping up his own coat.

“Ah, I forgot to ask something. There’s a meeting scheduled for Satsuki and me that I’m not sure we can miss. Wait up for me would you?” he asked, turning and heading quickly up the stairs back towards the office and her bedroom.

He reached her room first and knocked lightly, suddenly nervous.

“Lady Satsuki?” he stage-whispered, “Are you up?”

There was no answer. He swore softly under his breath and tried the handle, hoping he wasn’t about to be struck down for his imprudence. It opened easier than he expected, and in his nervousness he nearly stumbled into the room as the door swung inward. He glanced around.

_Whew, empty._ He thought. _Maybe she’s still in her office…_

He knocked and swung the door inwards, more carefully this time.

_Empty. That’s probably not good._

He looked around and found the room completely Satsuki-less.

“Ah crap. Gama’s gonna flip out…” he swore, running a hand through his hair. “And then he’s gon-“

He broke off midsentence as his eyes caught upon the ornamental fireplace that occupied most of one wall. Or rather upon its mantel, where sat a carved wooden holder for a pair of swords. The larger of which was nowhere to be seen. Sanageyama’s face went white with sudden realization.

“So that’s why she forbade us from going after the guy…” he muttered in shock, unconsciously stepping backwards towards the door, nearly tripping over his own feet. By the time he’d turned to take another two steps he’d broken into a run, drawing his phone from his pocket.

 

“Sanageyama, what is it? I’m not in the mood fo-“ Gamagoori started to grumble

“Satsuki’s gone.” he said simply.

“WHAT!?” This he heard through the intervening floors rather than over the phone.

“Worse, she has her sword. I think…I think she might do something reckless.”

There was a long pause, then Gamagoori grunted.

“Understood. I’ll bring the car around, you make the call.” he said brusquely, hanging up.

Sanageyama took the steps four at a time all the way down, panting lightly with the effort.

“…Ah shit, you bastard.” He swore without heat at the dial-tone, “Of course you stick me with that job.”

 

Leaping down another flight of stairs, he cursed steadily with the lack of rancor that was possessed by only the truly courageous, or the truly despairing. He had a sinking suspicion he was mistaken about which one he was as he lifted his phone and dialed the number of Matoi Ryūko.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slower chapter this time; my apologies if it seems to drag, but I tried to properly capture the feeling of the time after a traumatic incident, where time seems to stretch on forever and even the most mundane obstacles seem insurmountable. Thanks for all your views and kudos, I hope I deserve them! As always, feel free to comment below, and I'll see you next chapter.


	4. A Matter of Honor

Satsuki shut the bedroom door behind her silently and shrugged efficiently out of her formal clothes, swapping them for more inconspicuous garments - jeans and a billowing black blouse. Catching a glimpse of herself as she opened the window, she paused to study her reflection intently. She almost looked normal; it had been a long time since she’d had the freedom to wear anything _actually_ casual rather than something whipped up by Iori that was the fashion industry’s idea of ‘casual’, took about fifteen minutes to put on, and fifteen seconds to want to take off again. For a few precious moments she could almost imagine that the reflection really was her - a different Kiryuin Satsuki - just a simple, uncomplicated young woman going out for the evening. Then her eyes drifted inevitably down to the simple white scabbarded sword hanging from one of her fists, clashing incongruously with that other Satsuki until the fantasy slipped away and only reality remained. She shook her head, took a grip on the ledge with one hand, and swung herself out into the darkness.

 

It was no real inconvenience for Satsuki to slip through the few sentries posted around the fence without being noticed, crossing the garden with soft, muffled footfalls until she pressed her back to the wall dividing the garden from the street. She paused a moment to let a guard pass, his pony-tail twitching lightly in the breeze as she stood motionless, catching her breath.

_It’s not really their fault I suppose,_ she mused, _I did help write the patrol route after all._

The guard’s footsteps dwindled into silence as she took her run-up and scaled the wall, carefully avoiding harm with athletic grace and a twist of her hips that sent her spiraling gracefully down into a crouch on the street. She glanced back and forth along the murky darkness of the cul-de-sac, the other houses looming like shadowy colossi amidst small pools of light from lamp-posts or shaded windows. She tightened her grip on her sword; she had a mission. In a breathless instant she was up and away, sprinting for the anonymity of the city streets and evening traffic.

 

Once into the city proper, Satsuki slowed her pace, pressing the sword to one leg to minimize its profile. Foot traffic was light, but a few cars sped past in either direction; islands of noise and headlights breezing past and rumbling on into the night. With difficulty, she managed to spot a taxi, and flagged it down with a wave of her arm. It pulled up to her slowly and the window rolled down with a buzz to reveal a man in his mid-forties, his hair making a quick retreat towards his temples so that his body could concentrate on expanding his gut. An unlit cigarette swung back and forth, clamped firmly between his lips. He looked her up and down.

“Where to?” he asked simply, swinging the slender stick from one side of his mouth to the other.

Satsuki climbed into the back of the taxi without a word. Only then did she retrieve her wallet, lift a hefty wad of bills, and in an icy cold voice, declared;

“I will give you all of this if you get me to Kanagawa jail in less than twenty minutes.” she said.

“That’s a strange place to be heading in a hurry, darlin’.” he said, narrowing his eyes, “And that’s a lot of money.”

“Yes, it is.” Satsuki said, grinding her teeth, “So _take the money and drive._ ” She said dangerously.

“It’s well out of my way…” the cabbie shrugged, sucking in air through his teeth, sending the cigarette bouncing between his lips, “And I don’t like it when people offer me too much money for so short a trip. It’s downright suspicious.” he said, shaking his head. Satsuki sighed and lifted the scabbarded sword in one hand, scything it through the air to slap the cigarette from the man’s mouth, ending the swing with the flat end of the scabbard pressing down between his legs. He made a breathless choking sound that was not quite speech.

“Alright.” Satsuki said softly, “I tried being polite. Now, at the end of this drive, you will either be receiving _this-_ ” she held up the wad of bills in her free hand, “Or _this._ ” She leaned very gently on the hilt of the sword. He squawked. She lessened the pressure enough for him to get his breath back, and whispered into his ear;

“Now. _Fucking. Drive._ ”

 

 Streetlights passed in stately procession as the car sped through the streets in the rapidly darkening city, night falling slowly but steadily like a heavy blanket, sending pedestrians and motorists alike scurrying for their homes. Satsuki barely noticed however, lost in her own thoughts as the headlights of passing cars illuminated her grim, worryingly serious expression. In the gaping silence of the journey, her doubts decided to crawl back in – slowly at first, but in greater and greater numbers as time went on.

_Talk about out of sorts,_ the inner voice said mockingly, _First weepy denial and now bloodthirsty denial. Are you noticing a theme here?_

_Shut up._ Satsuki thought at herself, _This needs to be done._

_Does it really?_ The voice laughed, _Will hurting him heal Nonon? Is he a phoenix? Will his blood magically restore her to health? Or are you just desperate to atone for how useless you were? Cold comfort for a cold heart I suppose._

_No really, shut up._ She shook her head, _Some things just have to be done. He can’t just get away with this._

_Kiryuin Satsuki – Judge, Jury and Executioner!_ The voice spat, tone acidic, _I hereby declare you a hypocrite and sentence you to live out your life like this. Being you is punishment enough._

The car rolled on while she argued with herself; alone in the center of a city.

 

 

Meanwhile, not so far away, another car sped through the streets weaving drunkenly around the sparse traffic of the evening. It was as if the car was driven by a man with split personalities; one of whom was an forty year-old school teacher for whom the Highway Code was a biblical text, and one who was sixteen and worried that the owner of his vehicle was about to realize it was no longer in the driveway. It careened furiously down one stretch of road only to brake sharply for a red light, tires squealing. When the light turned green, it took off again as if a speed limit were something that applied only to other people.

“Damn it, Gamagoori!” Sanageyama yelled as he was thrown violently into the passenger door for what felt like the fiftieth time, “Either obey all the laws or none of them!”

Gamagoori grunted a response and threw the car in gear again, overtaking a cyclist so quickly that the man was nearly bowled over by their passing.

“I swear to god, you never get any better at this!” Sanageyama swore, nearly dropping his phone, “Shit, she isn’t answering. Come on, Transfer Student, this is important!”

As if on cue, the call connected and the car was filled with the sound of people cheering and yelling, cursing and screaming. A cacophonous bass beat filled the speakers with static as someone shredded out a guitar line at Mach three. Over all the din came a muffled voice swearing steadily.

“Matoi? Matoi are you there?” Sanageyama asked, holding the phone several feet from his ear, “C’mon Matoi this is important, stop your damn delinquency and talk to me!” Suddenly a loud, exuberant and terrifyingly familiar voice filled the air.

“Ryuko-chan is not a delinquent, Sanageyama-senpai! She’s a normal college girl with a social life, like me!” it declared. Sanageyama put his face in his hands and tried to think calming thoughts.

“Mako! Hey, Mako, gimme back my phone!” Ryuko’s voice came from somewhere in the background

“Not until Sanageyama-senpai apologizes!” Mako retorted over the sounds of a struggle.

Wordlessly, Sanageyama lifted the phone and offered it to Gamagoori, who looked as if he were being offered the barrel of a gun. He shook his head quickly, mouthing the word ‘no’ repeatedly.

“Hold on one minute, Mankanshoku!” Sanageyama said quickly, “Gamagoori wants to talk to you!”

“Wait, Sanageyama that’s-“

“Oh, Gamagoori-senpai! Good evening!” Mako shouted, twice as exuberant as before, “Did you want to come and join us? Me and Ryuko-chan found a really good bar! They have music! And pool! And-“

“That sounds wonderful!” Gamagoori interrupted slowly going red, “But something has come up; if we could just speak to Ryuko-cha- I mean, Matoi!”

Finally there came the piercing sound of Ryuko’s battle cry; Mako squealed and broke out into breathless laughter, and moments later Ryuko’s voice came through the speakers.

“Oi, Sanageyama, what do you want? We’re trying to have some fun here!” she asked belligerently.

Sanageyama retrieved his phone and answered her, shaking his head,

“How did you get the phone off her?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

“I tickled her.” Ryuko said, as if she were revealing some great and terrible secret, “It’s her weakness. You’d better be listening, Gamagoori!” Sanageyama snorted as Gamagoori made a variety of comedic expressions, blushing even darker than before.

“Shit, I’m getting distracted.” Sanageyama said, the reality of the situation hitting him suddenly, “Matoi. You haven’t heard about his morning?”

“This morning? Oh, the show! How did it go?” Ryuko asked, “Did Satsuki blow everyone away?”

Sanageyama winced and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Ummm…not exactly. Listen, I’ll bring you up to speed…”

 

 

The driver’s muffled voice jolted Satsuki out of her inner conflict. Her head whipped round, darting back and forth until her senses finally caught up and she straightened in the seat, hands tightening around the scabbard laid across her knees.

“Miss?” the driver said hesitantly, “We’re here.” He flinched as she moved the sword, placing it to one side slowly.

“I see.” She said softly, looking out the window. They were indeed parked outside the jail; a squat, dull looking building in an otherwise unremarkable area of the prefecture. If traffic was light elsewhere, it was non-existent here, and both sides of the street were utterly clear of pedestrians.

“Here you are.” She said handing him the wad of bills, watching as he fumbled them; his hands shaking so badly that he could barely fold them into his pocket. She gave him a cold look, one of her iciest.

“And remember; you didn’t see me.” She whispered softly, fixing him with a stare that could have stopped his heart. He could do nothing but nod, and by the time her feet hit the ground he was leaving, roaring down the street and zooming around the first corner into the night. She took a deep breath and strolled towards the front door of the jail, her sword held casually to one of her long legs, hiding its silhouette in her shadow.

_So far, so good._ She thought, _Now for the tricky part…_

 

 

“So…” Ryuko said, trying not to crush her phone into pieces (again), “No one thought to tell me about this?”

Sanageyama winced and tried his most polite voice as a quietly audible growl underlined her words.

“I was kinda busy dealing with all the medical stuff, Matoi, so it slipped my mind. Now, are you coming or not?”

“Shit…of course I’m coming, you dolt. I’ll meet you there.” She said, anger draining out of her voice. The sounds of music and revelry quietened to something the other side of deafening as she stalked out of the bar.

“How are you gonna get here?” Sanageyama asked, “Wait, did you-?”

“Yep.” Ryuko said with a fierce grin, “I brought the bike.” As if in answer to her statement, the roar of a bike’s engine echoed through the conversation; a low, throaty growl perfectly suited to its rider. Gamagoori frowned and finally decided on something, leaning over to the phone.

“Matoi. Have you been drinking? Drinking and driving is a serious crime!” he said firmly.

“Life fibers, big guy.” Ryuko spat cockily, “I could drink all four of you ‘elites’ under the fuckin’ table!” she said, laughing as she revved the bike’s engine, “Now, try and keep up, or I’ll get there before you!”

Sanageyama looked up, disgustedly shoving his phone into his pocket and wiping a hand through his hair.

“She hung up on me.” He said with a grunt of annoyance. Gamagoori traded a look with him and then gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Sanageyama. Hold onto something.” He said.

“Oi, Gamagoori, don’t take it personally-” Sanageyama began.

“NOBODY SAVES LADY SATSUKI BEFORE ME!” Gamagoori roared as he found another gear and threw the car’s speed from ‘illegal’ to ‘insane’, sending the vehicle up onto two wheels as they rounded another corner and closed on their destination.

 

 

Hideo Tanaka let out a weary sigh, idly flicking over a page in his dog eared paperback. _I really need to watch my mouth around the chief,_ he thought to himself, skimming the book disinterestedly, _Otherwise I’m gonna be stuck on nights for another month._ He glanced at his watch; nearly nine o’clock. Gods but time ran slowly on these shifts. Just as he finished composing another self-pitying rant on the struggles of his current situation, the door to the jail banged open and someone staggered in, letting out a piercing “Whoops!” and a series of raucous giggles as they tripped over the doorstep. It was a woman; a young girl, he realized, dressed nicely but not expensively. Her hair was a mess, and he worried that something had happened to her before his eyes caught up to the sway of her step, the top few buttons of her shirt casually undone and his ears caught the soft, drunken giggles she was making.

_Oh thank god, she’s just drunk,_ he thought, _Pretty smart of her to stumble in here too. Better than trying to get home in that state._ He stood up, thinking over what to do. Yoshida, his sergeant, wouldn’t be back for at least a few minutes, so he’d have to come to a decision first and hope it was the right one. Just as he was considering his next move, the girl tripped and stumbled forwards, nearly tumbling to the ground. Like a gentleman, he took two quick steps forward to catch her, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

“Careful there miss, you could get hurt-” he started to say, before a scabbarded sword swung up from behind her and slammed into his stomach like the wrath of God. He gasped for air, all the wind knocked out of him in a second of dizzying pain. The girl- no, the young woman, looked at him with something approaching an apologetic expression, then hit him again.

_That was uncalled for,_ he thought blearily as he slumped to the floor, curling instinctively around his stomach, _I was just trying to be nice. It’s not like I’m some pervert or something…_

Dimly he was aware that she was doing something, but it was not until the metal clink of handcuffs reached his ears that he realized his predicament.

“H-Hey!” he said, raising his arm in protest. Or at least he tried, but she’d cuffed him to part of the desk and his arm came up only halfway before the metal dug into his wrist painfully. Her only response was to shush him, putting a finger to her lips as she stalked toward the cells, sword in one hand and in the other…

“Hey, those are my keys!” he rasped as loudly as he could, “Y-you can’t just take my keys!”

She ignored him as she used them to open the door to the cells, spinning them idly around one finger as she slipped inside. Tanaka let out a quiet grunt of a sigh.

_And to think, I started this shift worried about a month of nights. The chief is gonna kill me…_

 

Sergeant Yoshida looked up from his work issue/entirely inappropriate reading material just in time to see Satsuki close the door behind her. He rose to his feet, raising his hands in a warding, placating gesture.

“Oi, miss? Miss, you can’t be in here!” he said firmly.  
No rookie, his eyes tracked her disheveled state and fixed upon the sword still sheathed in her hand. He didn’t hesitate, one hand shooting down to grab his baton faster than a man his size should be able to. He opened his mouth to call out a warning but managed instead to catch a heavy ring of keys thrown at him with terrifying force. Pain, white hot and blinding took his vision from him, crimson spilling down his lips and he staggered backwards, swinging one muscled forearm in feral defense. It swished through empty air and a second later something scythed his legs out from under him, sending him plummeting off balance to the floor with a heavy thud. He hit his head on the side of his chair and went still, groaning weakly. Satsuki made no reaction to her victory except for a small bow to retrieve the keys now speckled with blood from the floor. Armed with keys and a clipboard of names and cells, she paced down the corridor. He wasn’t hard to find.  
After all, his name was on the list, bold as brass; _Sasaki Otoya, 38, Male, Cell 3-A._ She stalked towards the indicated cell, dropping the clipboard to the floor.

 

 

Outside, Gamagoori’s car wheeled wildly around the corner towards the police station.

“There it is!” Sanageyama cried, the relief in his voice turning suddenly to terror, “Wait, look out-!”

Out of the darkness a figure reared up only meters away. The cars headlights bloomed over him for a mere moment, illuminating the scene; one stern, expressive eye of red and yellow rings and one eye cruelly shut by a deep cross shaped scar. His mouth was fanged and terrible, and light shined out from within. The face was primally terrifying, shockingly close and achingly familiar.

“The kamui?!” Gamagoori shouted, wrenching on the steering wheel.

“No, the bike!” Sanageyama yelled, bracing himself.

It was indeed a bike, a sporty Honda with a ferocious roar and a paintjob to match, whose rider was suddenly placed on a collision course with Gamagoori’s terrible handling. With consummate skill the rider twitched the bike aside, trading paint a fraction of second before she would have been thrown thirty feet or more. Still, the laws of physics demanded their due, and the bike skittered onto its side, dragging the rider’s leg fifteen feet before stopping in a heap of blood and tire-smoke. The car fared little better, swerving into a spin and slamming into a trashcan beside the jail; coming to a graceless, sputtering halt.

Gamagoori’s immense figure stumbled from the driver’s side door and headed for the bike and its injured rider to see what assistance he could give. He reached her just in time for his offered hand to be gripped in fingers of steel and used to assist a second hand to slam ruthlessly into his solar plexus. He grunted in breathless pain and looked up to see Matoi Ryuko, one leg of her jeans a mess of blood and scraped flesh that was even now knitting itself together eerily, like some bizarre Claymation project.

 “What the hell, Gamagoori!?” she yelled, face pale except for her cheeks flushed scarlet with anger, one hand grabbing a fistful of his shirt, “How many years have you had your license?! You drive like Mako thinks!”

Sanageyama climbed woozily out of the passenger seat and raised his hands, trying to calm her once he was sure he was in fact in possession of four limbs in more or less the correct places.

“Come on, Matoi don’t be like that!” he slurred, “We were in a hurry!”

Gamagoori raised one finger and coughed weakly as he mustered a reply, getting air into his lungs again.

“M-My…apologies Matoi. B-but we need to find Lady Satsuki.”

“Ah shit.” she swore, dropping his shirt from her fist, “I guess you’re right. God dammit fine, I’ll beat your ass later.”

With that she turned on her heel and marched towards the door, the horrific injury barely causing her to limp. The two men shared a long glance and wordlessly they followed her, Gamagoori still wheezing slightly.

 

 

Satsuki stood before the door. It was a simple, sturdy thing, with a heavy lock, colored a pale off-white. She reached up and slid the key home. It jangled against the lock and she realized her fingers were shaking. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and twisted the key, hearing the heavy clunk of the lock opening. Then without waiting, without daring to wait, she slowly swung the door towards her, opening it outward to reveal him. Sasaki Otoya was not an imposing man. He sat on the narrow cot, his elbows resting on his knees, cradling his chin and jaw in his cupped hands as if in deep thought. He looked older in the dim fluorescent light, and his black hair was tinged grey at the roots.

_Prematurely whitened,_ she thought, _he can’t be older than forty._

He looked up at her, and his face _changed_ ; the slack, bored expression on his cheeks pulled back, making him look gaunt as his lips thinned into a displeased smile, like someone receiving bad news they’ve been waiting to hear. He stood, pushing himself up with his hands to his knees, stumbling slightly as he rose to face her.

“I thought you’d come.” he rasped, his voice dry.

“Did you?” she replied, her own voice a bare whisper. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say. Her hands shook with the adrenaline racing through her veins, making her heart pound against her ribs like a caged beast. She tightened her grip on the sword she carried.

“Go ahead, ask me.” he said, chuckling without humor. She gritted her teeth.

“Why?” she said, “Why did you try and kill me? Why did you shoot Nonon?”

He sighed, as if releasing a terrible weight from his shoulders, and then met her eyes.

His eyes were terrible; bloodshot and wild, pupils dilated into pools of glinting obsidian. They were mad eyes, and Satsuki instinctively darted her gaze away from them in a wave of sheer, animal terror.

“First because I wanted you dead. Then when that bitch got in the way I decided it was fitting for you to suffer.” He growled, “I wanted you to suffer like I suffer.”

“What?” she said. Her voice was soft, hesitant. Hate poured off him like body heat as he spoke.

“I want you to suffer. I want you to know how it feels to lose everything, to lose something that matters to you!” he said, voice rising to a yell, taking a step towards her.

“W-what happened? Why do you hate me like this?” she asked, struggling to keep the resolve in her tone; this was not what she had expected. He threw his head back and laughed wildly, the sound inhuman and savage.

“What happened!? You don’t even know!?” he yelled, “Twenty-three years I worked for your company! Twenty-three years thrown away because of ‘ethical concerns’ and ‘cost-cutting measures’!”

Satsuki reeled, taking a half step back. Incredulous, she stared at him with open disgust.

“You tried to kill me because you lost your _job?_ ” she asked, spitting the words out.

“I tried to kill you because _I lost everything!_ ” he roared, taking a step and closing the distance, “I had a job, a career, a wife, a family! Until you came and fucked everything up!”

Satsuki took a half step back, sweat beading on her brow. Her shoulder bumped roughly against the wall of the corridor and she started to panic. He was crazy, no doubt about that. He was 100% organic gluten-free batshit insane. The adrenaline was playing havoc with her emotions, and the thought made her chuckle abruptly, despite the circumstances.

“We were geniuses!” he continued, oblivious to her mood, “We were the cutting edge of biochemistry, and you cast our division aside like so much trash! You sold us to some sleazy American conglomerate to make fucking _Viagra!_ They treated us like shit, fired half of us and you let them do it! My wife left me, took my children, took my house, took everything! AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Satsuki stared at him with complete and utter shock written on her face. Slowly, her eyebrows furrowed into one solid line. The fear slid away, draining out through the soles of her feet. She felt cold.

Her face drew itself into a pinched, furious mask, lips thinned in a psychotic smile to match his own. The handle of her sword creaked under her white-knuckled grip, and a slow, golden light began to radiate from her in rippling waves.

“That’s…it?” she asked, her voice a furious whisper, “You did all this because you were fired. No grand revenge, no great injustice. You did this because you were fired.”

“I lost everything! And you…you’re to blame!” he roared, stepping closer, raising his hands into fists, “You have everything you could ever want! You spoiled rich brat! You don’t even know what pain is, you-”

 

“ _You shot my best friend!”_ Satsuki screamed, and the sheer force of her voice battered him backwards with its vitriolic fury, “ _But you should have aimed better, you pig in human clothing!”_

He drew himself up and ran at her, one hand raised to strike. The light from her flashed outward like a flash grenade, like fireworks, like the radiant dawn, forcing him to cover his eyes. The sword swept from her sheath, raising high above her head in a glittering arc.

“ _I don’t know of pain!? I know nothing else you ignorant dog! I don’t know of suffering?! You haven’t felt the merest hint of the suffering I have endured, pig! Endured and overcome!”_

He struggled towards her, raising his fists in hopeless defiance. There was no hesitation in her now, no fear and no mercy.

“Fuck you, Kiryuuin bitch!”

“ _This is for Jakuzure, bastard!”_

 

Time slowed.

The sword swept down.

The door to the corridor burst from its hinges with a twisting scream of shearing metal.

Satsuki shut her eyes as the deathblow landed.

The sword bit home with a sickening sound of steel on flesh.

Satsuki grit her teeth, feeling the sword stick fast, shaking in her grip.

And a small sound echoed through the room. A soft, feminine gasp of pain.

Satsuki’s eyes shot open.

 

Before her stood a young woman almost of a height with her, black leather jacket hanging scruffily over a faded band t-shirt. Her face was drawn in pain, one pointed canine digging into her lower lip. The bright red lock in her messy black hair pulsed in time to her breathing, and its crimson light was a perfect match for the blood that ran in slow rivulets down Satsuki’s sword, clenched tightly in her fist.

 

“R-ryuko!?” Satsuki stuttered, as the girl grinned ferally up at her through gritted teeth.

“C-can’t let you…d-do that, Nee-san.” she rasped, fist shaking around the blade sunk deep into the meat of her palm.

“Oh god, Ryuko, your hand!” Satsuki said, not sure if she should pull away, drop the sword or just curl up and die right there. Blood trickled slowly down the blade to splatter onto the floor, but Ryuko’s grip didn’t waver.

“Relax, sis.” She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in a sudden rush. Then she took a second breath and held it. With a jerk of her wrist she pulled her hand free of the blade, revealing the deep cut in the ruins of her palm, scattering scarlet droplets in a wide arc across the floor and part of one wall.

“Fuck, that stings.” she swore as Satsuki stared at her in horror, the sword clattering from her limp fingers. Dimly Satsuki saw two men fall upon Sasaki Otoya, bundling him back into his cell with less than gentle motions, but her attention was fixed upon her sister’s mutilated hand. She felt as if her heart was going to burst out of her chest, or tear itself to shreds from the violent exertion of its beating.

“Ryuko, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” she babbled, putting her face in her hands, tears coming to her eyes, unused adrenaline tipping her emotions over the edge, shattering her rage and anger. Ryuko frowned at her and waved her good hand, then when she didn’t respond, shook her by the shoulder.

“Satsuki, oi, Satsuki!” Ryuko said, worry evident in her tone as Satsuki ignored her, lost in her stress. Finally, she shrugged in exasperation, drew back one boot and kicked the tall woman sharply in the ankle.

“Ow, what the hell!?” Satsuki yelped, caught off guard by the sudden attack.

“Nee-san, _look._ ” Ryuko said, making no effort to hide her exasperation, waving her injured hand in Satsuki’s face. She stared at it, blinking the beginnings of tears from her eyes.

_Her hand is…rippling,_ she thought slowly, _Wait, not rippling…healing!_

Before her eyes the long slash deep into Ryuko’s palm rippled and the ends began to knit together, the faint glow of life fibers pulsing in time to her heartbeat, her hair reflecting the same scarlet light. Already the bleeding had stopped and the edges of the cut were puckering up, straining forward to meet each other. It was extremely disconcerting to watch. Satsuki would always love her sister, but it wasn’t often she was reminded of her semi-inhuman nature, and each time it shook her a little.

 

“See, nee-san?” Ryuko said kindly, one hand squeezing Satsuki’s shoulder, “It’s okay. Nobodies hurt.

“I forgot all about…that.” Satsuki murmured, waving one hand in a gesture meant to encompass ‘alien parasite granted regeneration’. Ryuko huffed out a breath of laughter.

You okay?” she asked, her tone soft, kind.

Satsuki sniffled her tears away and wiped her face with the back of one hand in an extremely unintimidating way, relaxing for the first time that night.

“Yeah.” She said simply, feeling tiredness seep into her once more, “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Well then let’s get you home.” said Ryuko, glancing to the two men, “Uzu?”

Sanageyama nodded, spinning the keys on his fingertip as Gamagoori retrieved Satsuki’s sword from the floor.

“I’ll take care of things here. You go on ahead.”

“W-what about him?” Satsuki asked, digging her heels in for a moment, “He…he…”

“Fuck him.” Ryuko said simply, “He isn’t worth the time or the effort. Let the police deal with him. It’s over.”

Her sister’s voice sank into Satsuki like a balm, and she felt a part of the ache inside her relax slightly.

“Right.” Satsuki murmured, nodding in agreement, “It’s over.”

She relaxed her grip and let Ryuko lead her away from the cell and out onto the street, leaving her rage behind her.

 

The night air was colder than she remembered, and Satsuki clung to her sister’s side, shivering as a breeze whipped down the street and raised goose bumps on her arms. Ryuko gave her one look and wordlessly shrugged out of her jacket, slinging it over Satsuki’s shoulders before adding her own arm to them, pulling the woman tight against her side. Satsuki muttered a thanks, her cheeks pink as she tugged the jacket tighter around herself. It smelt faintly of leather, oil, alcohol and the soap Ryuko used, and its inner lining was warm against her bare skin.

 

“Gamagoori, I’m telling you this now so we don’t have any misunderstandings.” Ryuko said, waggling a finger at him, “I’m taking Satsuki home. On the bike. It’ll be faster, she’s gonna want me around anyway, I’m not leaving the bike here and don’t even mention the fucking word safety because you literally nearly ran me the fuck over not twenty minutes ago.”

Gamagoori flushed but grunted in acknowledgement, eyes flickering to Ryuko’s leg. Satsuki glanced down, following his gaze and gaped at the ruins of Ryuko’s left jean leg which hung in ragged tatters.

“What happened!?” she asked, concern written in her voice. Ryuko just shrugged.

“I slid about twenty feet, scraped my leg open pretty bad. It’s fine now.” she said, lifting her leg to show the pale, untouched skin beneath the holes in the tough fabric where injuries should have been.

“Oh, good.” Satsuki muttered, feeling foolish. Ryuko grinned at her, jostling her shoulder playfully.

“Thanks for caring though, nee-san.”

This time Satsuki managed a smile.

They reached the bike, still on its side and Ryuko grunted with effort as she lifted it upright. Satsuki paused, staring intently at the bike’s paint job.

“Senketsu, hm?” she asked, tracing a finger over the deep gouge in the scarred eye.

“Yeah…” Ryuko said awkwardly, clearly embarrassed, “It’s not a replacement or anything…”

“I didn’t say it was.” Satsuki said mildly, “In fact, I like it.”

Ryuko’s grin was wide and white in the dim light of the street.

“Yeah. It’s not him, but it’ll do.”

 

With the roar of the bike’s engine sounding more like a subdued growl, they slid away into the darkness towards home. Satsuki leant against her sister, arms threaded around her waist as they drove, and listened to her own heartbeat, calling upon her meditative training to settle her thoughts and discard the unneeded adrenaline rushing through her veins.

_Not a complete disaster,_ she thought, _I learned that not every villain has a dramatic evil motive or a complicated scheme. Some of them are just completely nuts._

She rested her cheek against Ryuko’s back, feeling the flushed warmth of her skin through the t-shirt.

_And I remembered that there are people who love me and care about what happens to me. There are worse lessons to learn, I suppose._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again everyone and apologies for the delay! I moved house and life got in the way, leaving me capable of writing only shorter pieces and delicious smut. But finally we're back on track and ready to roll! This is the last 'side-chapter' as it were, and we're finally going to get back to Jakuzure so I can punch you repeatedly in the heart a few more times! This has been the longest chapter thus far and also my least favorite to write; I rewrote it twice before I was happy posting it, and I still think it's a mess. Nevertheless thank you for reading and as always; kudos, comments and criticism below would be much appreciated. I'll see you next time~


	5. By My Side

_Something surfaced from deep, dark slumber. It felt the light behind its lids and made them open. Bright, stabbing pain rewarded its choice. As if on cue, pain flooded through its body; leg, hip and breast. But with it came knowledge, purpose- and the something became a someone. And the someone had a name._

_Jakuzure screamed, and then the darkness returned._

When next she awoke, dreading the return of pain, she could not imagine of a greater contrast. Her body floated on currents of air, fluffy white ripples spreading out from her body, wrapping her up and enfolding her in their embrace.

 

_Clouds? No…sheets._

She blinked her eyes, glacially slow, as heady a motion as lifting weights in her current condition. She felt lethargic, sluggish, and the air held a sparkling, dreamlike quality to it.

 

_Morphine._

 

The word spun through her mind and away without imprint, without meaning.

She slowly became aware of herself, each piece that made up the whole slumbering until it was called upon. She thought of her arms, and they responded, weakly folding themselves together across her body. She thought of her chest, and she took a shuddering breath, muffled through the mask across her face. She thought of her stomach, and it roiled with discomfort at the empty, narcotic feeling that thrummed through her.

But then she thought of her legs, and there was silence. Harder, she thought of them, imagined their slender strength and flexible shape. One of them leapt to obey, twitching at her command. The other lay still and silent beside it, an unmatched pair. Her eyelids flickered.

_That’s probably not good._

She almost had to crane to see to the end of the bed, but once her unruly gaze had focused she had no trouble seeing the bandage and splints covering her leg. Her right leg was practically mummified, held suspended gently above her body, numb to the world.

_Well, that’s the end of my dancing career._

The joke produced a dry sob of a laugh that hurt coming up, sounding like more of a rasping cough. It elicited a sleepy mumble from unseen lips. Jakuzure flinched, startled, and turned to track the source of the noise. It took her what felt like an hour to slowly turn her face to the side, making her way across the vast marshmallow pillow. The motion tugged gently on the pinpricks of pain in the crook of her left arm, an IV or two she guessed. Her gaze finally fixed on the source of the sound and her eyes widened.

 

_Satsuki._

 

Tears prickled at her eyes.

 

_Satsuki._

 

Her heart pounded in her chest as if it would splinter its way from between her ribs.

 

_Satsuki!_

The sight of her felt like coming home.

She was unaccustomedly dressed in a pale blue blouse, messily unbuttoned to reveal a tight white tank-top plain of any pattern over black dress pants, only a subtleness to the cut stopping them from being dreadfully masculine. More unusual than that, she was not as Jakuzure imagined her- ready with a smile to put some small book or business report aside and welcome her back. She was curled up in the too-small chair, legs pulled up and in like a child in dreamless slumber. Her head was pillowed on a rolled up jacket, and her mouth was open slightly. Out of all the thoughts that suddenly assailed Jakuzure, one of them stuck fast, making her smile slightly.

_It’s almost like we’re sleeping together. Almost._

Satsuki made a small, indelicate snorting sound and murmured something, wriggling to get more comfortable. Her raven-dark hair was tufted out in every direction like an unruly mane, her face free of makeup.

 _Even this way…no, especially this way,_ she thought, _she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen._

Satsuki mumbled incoherently in sleep and just the sound of her voice brought an idiotic smile to her face.

_I really did it. I really saved you._

By the time Jakuzure realized she was tired she was already falling asleep, consciousness drifting down into the dream without giving her chance to complain. This time, it didn’t hurt.

 

The third awakening was the charm apparently. Jakuzure blinked her eyes open to find the sunset light of early winter evening dappling in purple and orange kaleidoscopic patterns through the room. Her head felt heavy but clearer, though wakefulness brought with it pain that fluttered numbly through her limbs, fighting whatever painkillers sat atop the metallic branches of the IV pole standing sentinel by her bedside. A quick inventory of her body managed to meet both her best expectations and her worst fears. Her leg was held suspended above the bed, ensconced in a heavy cast of some kind and numb to the world. Her chest was swathed in bandages beneath the sheets, and her left hip felt heavy with some kind of padding or bandage of the same material. A mask sat atop her face, over her mouth, the straps painfully tight. She must have made a small sound of discomfort, because Satsuki’s face suddenly appeared, hovering in her vision like the face of god. She frowned briefly and then used strong, slender fingers to loosen the mask around her jaw, relieving the irksome pressure.

_How does she always know?_

Satsuki smiled at her as Jakuzure made a small noise of thanks. It rasped through her throat and suddenly she felt as parched as the desert after a long summer. She barely had time to form her thoughts into a sentence when Satsuki lifted a cup into her vision. Jakuzure raised one eyebrow in unconscious imitation of the woman looking down at her. Satsuki snorted out a breath of laughter and spoke;

“I know, I know. Bear the indignity for me, please?”

Just hearing her voice again, its low alto, its subtle humor, was like _music_.

Then Satsuki wiggled the bright orange sippy-cup in her hands enticingly, as if Jakuzure was a child.

She furrowed her brows at the obnoxious woman, but nodded her head jerkily.

“I’m going to remove the mask now. Let me know straight away if you have trouble breathing, okay?” Satsuki said, the concern in her voice evident. Jakuzure nodded again as the mask was pulled down, freeing her mouth from its confines. She took a shallow, labored breath and nearly choked on it, coughing for a few moments. Satsuki seemed ready to shove the mask straight back on, but she shook her head and called upon a slender echo of her strength to raise her hand to guide the cup to her mouth.

Even room temperature, even from a bright orange sippy-cup, the water was the best thing she’d ever tasted. It slid down her throat like ambrosia, soothing the burning dryness that plagued her. She took several sips, guzzling greedily until Satsuki pulled the cup away from her far before she was done. She made a growling sound and reached for it.

“Wait. The doctor said not to let you drink too much too fast.” Satsuki said, catching Jakuzure’s outstretched hand in her own. Her fingers were strong but gentle as they held her away. Jakuzure glanced down at their joined hands, as if she couldn’t believe they were touching. Satsuki, oblivious, continued talking.

“They said you’d be thirsty, but the water couldn’t be too cold or it’d shock your lungs, you couldn’t have too much or you’d vomit…”

Jakuzure’s gaze was fixed to where her own feeble grasp was entwined with Satsuki’s slender fingers, her skin so warm and so soft she felt more comforting than the sheets she was lying in.

 _How does she have such soft skin?_ _The woman spends four hours every other day using a sword!_

“So you’ll just have to sip a little at a time…Nonon, are you alright?” Satsuki trailed off, looking worried.

She licked her lips and tried her very hardest to put every iota of warmth into her voice as she rasped out;

“G-Great. Thank you.” Jakuzure whispered, her voice a hoarse murmur.

Satsuki let out a long sigh, giving Jakuzure’s hand a firm squeeze.

“I’m glad. Look, what you did…” she paused, spreading one arm wide in a gesture of speechlessness, then shook her head, dismissing the thought for the moment, “The others will want to see you. Give me a moment.” She stood, turning towards the door. Jakuzure squeezed the hand she still held with all her might: her fingers twitched firmly enough to catch Satsuki’s attention, turning back to look down at her.

“You…t-they’re okay? How…how long?” she rasped, caught between two questions. Satsuki smiled at her, and her heartbeat redoubled.

“Yes, Nonon. We’re okay. Thanks to you. And it’s been three days, give or take. It’s about…five o’clock, Sunday afternoon.” she reported. Jakuzure huffed out a breath, trying to come to terms with losing three days at the same time as finding out that her friends were safe, a complex swirl of emotions running through her drug-slowed mind. Satsuki squeezed her fingers once more and let her hand slip free, striding to the door and rapping on it sharply in a staccato rhythm.

 

One by one, they filed in, her companions, her friends; looking tired but exuberant in their rumpled clothes and fatigued expressions. They crowded her bedside, Sanageyama giving her shoulder a fond shake while Gamagoori rumbled his gratitude for her safety. Inumuta even muscled Sanageyama’s tall build out of the way so that he could murmur his greeting to her. After a few moments Satsuki clicked her fingers and their joined mumbling came to a halt. Slowly they came to attention in a ragged line facing the bed. Jakuzure flushed slightly and shook her head, wordlessly embarrassed but unable to stop what she knew was coming.

As one, they bowed to her; broad shouldered Gamagoori, lean Sanageyama, rail-thin Inumuta and Satsuki herself. They folded at the waist and bowed low, holding it so that there was no doubt to the scope of the gratitude they felt for what she had done. She felt tears prickle her eyes again and she nodded weakly to them in turn, beyond speech. Satsuki raised herself back up and decisively began to shoo them out.

“Alright, you’ve seen her, now get out!” she said over their complaints, “Come on, you can come back later. Look at her, she’s exhausted!”

Jakuzure didn’t realize the truth of it until then, but suddenly the weight of the blankets on her alone threatened to push her down into slumber. Exhaustion hit her like a wave and her eyelids fluttered closed. When they opened again, time had passed, and Satsuki was sitting by her bedside. She was holding one of Jakuzure’s hands in her own, running her thumb absently over the backs of Jakuzure’s knuckles. She was whispering, more to herself than to Jakuzure.

“Nonon…I don’t know what would have happened without you there. If you hadn’t spotted him, if you hadn’t have…” she trailed off, bowing her head so that her hair fell over her face, “I thought it might happen, a few years ago. I tried to come to terms with it. That one day I might lose one of you. All of you, even. I never did. Never could. I was willing to condone my own sacrifice, but no matter how logical it was, I couldn’t imagine losing any of you. But you…” she raised her head slightly, and Jakuzure saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes, “You didn’t hesitate. You were in front of me faster than I could think. You were brave. Selfless. Resolved.”

She was silent for a long moment, and Jakuzure thought she might get up and leave. It seemed that Satsuki hadn’t realized she was still awake, if only just. After almost half a minute Satsuki began to speak once more.

“Nonon, it was probably the bravest thing that you could have done. That anyone could have done. It was the greatest gift you could ever have given me.” she murmured, her voice dropping low, lower even than her usual husky alto, and desperation tinged her next words as her grip became painfully tight; elegant fingers tinged pale white with effort.

“And I’m begging you- _Never, ever do it again._ ” she said.

Jakuzure stayed silent, her eyes mostly closed, tears blurring her vision.

 

_What could I say? What could I possibly say?_

_‘It’s alright, I love you so much that these injuries mean nothing to me?’_

_‘Don’t worry, I’m so hopelessly infatuated with you that holding your hand is enough to reduce me to moronic silence?’_

_Or how about ‘I did it without thinking and I don’t expect it to make you sudden realize I’m here and wanting you so badly it hurts, and even though you’re my best friend and I love you, I’ll always hate you just a tiny bit for never noticing me, and that hurts more than I want to admit.’_

 

Heedless to her turmoil, Satsuki gave her hand one last squeeze and placed it softly back onto her lap. Then, instead of leaving like Jakuzure assumed she would, she picked up her jacket and slung it around her, curling back up into the chair that sat by the bedside and closing her eyes. Despite herself, Jakuzure smiled.

 _I hate you, you idiot,_ she thought fondly.

 

* * *

 

“No wonder people here are sick if this is the shit they have to eat all week!” Ryuko said, making a face at the bowl of lukewarm rice and limp looking greens in front of her as if it had just flipped her off. A small, dexterous hand slid across the table and began to slowly drag the offending food away.

“I’ll take it if Ryuko-chan doesn’t want it anymore!” a cheerful voice said, before Ryuko’s hand came down hard onto Mankanshoku Mako’s shoulder, pushing her away from the bowl by main force.

“Oi, I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna eat it!”

“Oh, don’t be such a stiiiiiiinge, you can share!”

“Buy your own food, you mooch!”

“It’ll go straight to your hips anyway!”

“It’ll WHAT!? You leave my hips out of this!”

“Never! I have to save Ryuko-chan’s hips from this dangerous food!”

Satsuki leaned over, cuffed Mako softly on the back of the head and pushed the bowl before Ryuko. Then she shoved a folded wad of bills into Mako’s fingers and sat back in her chair. This was all achieved in the space of maybe a second, leaving both of them reeling.

“Mankanshoku, get your own food if you’re hungry; Ryuko, stop complaining and eat your meal. It’s like watching children bicker.” she said, giving them perhaps her third most serious look. They both looked down, admonished for all of a second before Mako swept up out of her seat and sped off, squealing.

“Thank you Satsuki-samaaaaaa~”

Ryuko snorted and shoveled a small plastic forkful of rice into her mouth.

“God this is awful.” she groaned.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Satsuki snapped.

Beside them, Sanageyama stifled a laugh. Ryuko shot him a dirty look, which only made him laugh harder.

“Stop it the two of you!” Satsuki growled, raising her voice. Their gazes, and the gazes of the others at the table, all snapped up to stare at her. Satsuki realized suddenly that her hands were balled into fists and that people for three or four tables around were staring at them, at her, with quizzical expressions or worse.

She flushed, color rising to her pale cheeks, and forced herself to relax. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her elite trade glances, each subtly inviting the other to ask the question.

“Jeez Sats, when did you last get some sleep? You look like shit.” Ryuko asked, beating them to the punch and giving her an unwontedly concerned look.

“I slept last night!” she said defensively.

“Yeah right,” Ryuko snorted, “Curled up in a hospital chair for a couple of hours doesn’t count. And you’ve been wearing these-” she skewered her chest with a poke from her plastic fork, “-for like two days now. You’re gonna smell.”

Satsuki flushed a darker red, and her hand swatted the fork aside.

“I do not smell.” she said angrily. Then she paused and lifted her blouse’s collar to her nose and sniffed delicately, “Do I? Do I smell?” she asked in a nervous voice. Ryuko bit down on a laugh.

“No, but you’d better grab a change of clothes and a shower. Jakuzure will still be there when you get back.”

Satsuki fought the embarrassment from her cheeks and gave Ryuko a scathing look.

“I know that! Besides, we’re getting off topic. Gamagoori, have you made arrangements?”

Ryuko stuck out her tongue, but went back to spooning rice into her mouth as the big man rumbled,

“Everything is in place, Lady Satsuki. Two people I trust from my team will be outside her door in shifts. It’s lighter than I’d like, but the hospital insisted. With…” he faltered, stumbling over his words, then rallied, “With the assailant in custody it should be sufficient.”

Satsuki’s face darkened at the mention of Sasaki Otoya, but she nodded and turned to the other pair of figures at the far end of the table.

“Alright, Inumuta, Sanageyama; what have I missed?”

They shared a glance, then Inumuta spoke;

“We really do have to get back to work. Iori is going to either burn out or end up here if he doesn’t get some help. He’s busy enough managing the wrinkles in the opening week, but he’s spending half his time fending off inquiries about you- internal and external.”

“Alright, that’ll have to stop. I’ll issue a statement today. No press conference. If anyone brings it up, refer them to my statement and tell them you’re there to talk about the product.”

They nodded their agreement.

“Now…” she took a deep breath, “Give me the numbers.”

Inumuta looked grim, biting his lip. Satsuki’s heart all but stopped in her chest, but then his face broke into a wide grin, unable to continue the charade.

“Completely _unbelievable.”_ he said, chuckling, “Over twice our projections. They’re not talking about anything else. A few slow news days pushed us to the front page locally and onto the headline news elsewhere. I’ve had to allocate new server space twice, and Iori has the tailors on overtime to keep up with demand. It might not last but as it stands, you’re currently a very wealthy woman again.”

Satsuki let out a long sigh of relief and rested her hands on the tabletop. Ryuko leaned over and slapped her on the back in a congratulatory fashion, hard enough to make her hide a wince.

“Oh thank god, I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d had to deal with that as well. Look, as soon as you’ve done what you can, free up some funds and make inquiries for me will you?”

“Inquiries, my lady?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Rehabilitation specialists, especially limb specialists. I want Jakuzure to have the best available help once she gets past her surgeries.”

Inumuta nodded, jotting something down on his phone.

“Is she out yet?”

“No, they’re working on her lungs right now. The surgeon said he anticipates no problems, they just have to see if their work holds. Then she has god knows how many more for her leg. At least three, depending on how bad the damage is.”

Sanageyama winced, “How bad is it? She gonna walk again?” Inumuta shot him a disgusted look.

“They don’t know.” Satsuki said, her lips thinned into a narrow line, “Not without a cane at the least.”

“Shit.” Sanageyama swore, slamming his hand down onto the table in exasperation.

Tellingly, Satsuki didn’t chide him, merely nodded her agreement. A hand covered hers and she glanced up to meet Ryuko’s piercing blue eyes. She squeezed her hand softly.

“It’ll be okay, nee-san. She’s tough. And I’m collecting her music notes for her, and all her coursework. Convinced some dude in her business classes to do the same too.”

“Thank you,” Satsuki said, surprised, “That’s very kind of you, Ryuko.”

Ryuko glanced away, embarrassed, “It’s nothin’. Anything I can do to help, right?”

Satsuki nodded, a faint smile on her face. “It’s not nothing. Now, unless there’s anything else, I think it’s time I followed my sister’s advice.”

 

* * *

 

 _If you’d have told me a year ago that not only would I drop everything; work, school and social life to play nursemaid, I’d have thought that you were mad. If you’d mentioned that I’d_ enjoy _it, I’d_ know _you were mad._

Satsuki mused to herself as she sat back in her chair by Jakuzure’s bed, an overnight bag slung over one side of the chair’s back, bulging with clothes and toiletries. Ryuko had rolled her eyes when she’d seen it, but she had been smiling too. Ryuko understood, if no one else did, that putting down the sword didn’t for a second mean being less of leader or less of a friend. As it turned out, peacetime had its share of battles too.

In any case a shower and a new set of clothes had restored some semblance of life to her, and she no longer felt quite like a zombie. Her mouth creased into a smile as she saw Jakuzure’s eyes flicker, and by the time she licked her lips and began to croak a request for more water, a cup was already in her hands. Jakuzure sipped gratefully, handing the cup back with shaking fingers. Satsuki leaned in to take it, opening her mouth to ask how she felt but she was already lying back, eyes fluttering closed into sleep. She’d been that way for most of the past three days, coming out only to drink or use the bedpan. Other than those essential needs, she stayed as she was now; face smoothed into a peaceful expression of slumber that was so unlike her usual frown or sarcastic grin that Satsuki found it peculiarly eye-catching. In sleep, the harsh lines of her regular expressions were smoothed away, revealing an odd serenity and maybe, just maybe a type of subtle beauty-

 

The buzzing of Satsuki’s phone caught her by surprise, and she nearly leapt out of the seat as her pants vibrated suddenly, a flash of sourceless guilt hitting her. She wriggled a hand into her pocket and tugged her phone free, shaking her head. That was not the first time she’d caught herself daydreaming today, and she surely had better things to do. Looking down at her phone, her face, unbeknownst to her, folded into the semblance of a frown as she opened the text message. It deepened as she read the words it contained and her fingers tapped out a staccato rhythm in reply.

“Yes, I’m cancelling on you. Deal with it, _god._ ” Satsuki muttered, “My best friend is in the hospital, I don’t care what we are, she comes first.”

A subtle change in the breathing of the girl beside her made her look up suddenly. Jakuzure was looking at her, eyes round orbs of sheer surprise. Satsuki folded her hands in her lap, covering her phone. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to keep embarrassment from coloring her cheeks.

 _I’ve done nothing wrong and I have nothing to be embarrassed about,_ she told herself, _I’m a grown woman and I am allowed to have a love life, damn it!_

Jakuzure smiled at her slightly, her face smoothed into placidness by the painkillers running sluggishly through her veins.

“’m your best friend?” she asked, her tone wondering, her smile off center. The words were slow, clumsy, and Satsuki suddenly realized that Jakuzure might not be on top of her mental game right this second.

“You know you are.” Satsuki said softly, adding a note of reassurance to her voice. Jakuzure closed her eyes, content.

“Thass’ good. ‘m glad.” she slurred, half drowsing. Satsuki chuckled deep in her throat. She sat back in her chair and closed her own eyes, wondering how upset _she_ would be at the cancellation of yet another dinner. She was just phrasing an apology in her head when a firm tap startled her, her eyes shooting open.

Jakuzure tapped her arm again, insistently.

“What is it? What do you need? Are you going to be sick?” Satsuki asked, concerned. Indeed it did look like Jakuzure was on the verge of nausea, her face pale and drawn, making her look twice her years.

“You…” Jakuzure began, chewing her lip, “You should go. To your thing. Imma be here when you get back.” she managed, through a mouth that felt as if it were filled with cotton wool. Satsuki stared at her, and Jakuzure tried to fill the gaping silence between them with words.

“You’ve been looking after me for…for days now. Go have fun!” she murmured weakly, pushing Satsuki with one limp hand, “You’re always by my side…I’m not…not going anywhere.”

Satsuki looked at her, and Jakuzure held her breath, meeting her gaze with eyes rimmed with red and underlined with black, tired bags. Finally, she dipped her head in a shallow nod.

“Alright. If you say so. I’ll be back tonight or tomorrow morning, okay?” Satsuki said, giving her a faint smile.

“Alright.” Jakuzure mumbled as Satsuki got up to leave, shouldering her bag and shooting her a quick, grateful smile as she lifted a phone to her ear. As she left, Jakuzure could hear the beginnings of a conversation, low and muffled through the glass sliding doors of her room.

 

“…hey…I can make tonight…yes, you’d better be grateful…seven o’clock…” Satsuki paused in the corridor, a small smile that Jakuzure had never seen before on her face. That small, content smile was like a knife to the heart.

“I’ll see you then, _Diane_.” Satsuki murmured, her footsteps echoing as she stepped out of sight.

 

The glass door was blurry now, in Jakuzure’s vision as heavy teardrops slid down her face, her shoulder shaking in slow, abject sobs. When she spoke, her voice was choked with tears, but held no tiredness or hint of painkiller-numbness.

“Go…I’d rather have you in someone else’s arms than have you resent me for keeping you here for one _second._ ” she muttered angrily, not sure if she were furious at Satsuki, furious at ‘ _Diane_ ’ or furious at herself.

 _So…the mystery woman has a name, and she’s taking Satsuki out for the night. More than the night? She said she might be back tomorrow morning,_ Jakuzure thought, her stomach roiling at the mere thought, _Well that clinches it. Kiryuin Satsuki has a…_ she trailed off, unwilling even to _think_ the word. Instead, she slumped slowly back onto the bed, pulling the sheets up over her head, using them to wipe at her tears. “Satsuki…you’ve always been by my side. I just wish it actually felt like it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Writing this chapter was even worse than the last one, and honestly, I don't really like anything I'm writing right now.  
> It feels like there's a disconnect between my brain and my work that's stopping anything from coming out quite right.  
> Nevertheless, I have a self-imposed deadline to stick to, so here is your monthly update! I hope you enjoy it, please grant me views, kudos and comments below~  
> And as always; Thank you for reading!
> 
> p.s. So, Satsuki's mysterious woman now has a name! As a slight spoiler, she is half-japanese and her name is pronounced "Dee-Anne", because Japanese is a funky language.  
> She is NOT a super-special OC snowflake, but I couldn't see Satsuki dating any of the other cast members. Thus...


	6. Visiting Hours

“Right. As long as you’re here bothering me, tell me everything you know about _‘Diane’,_ ” Jakuzure said dangerously, glaring bubblegum-pink daggers at the man sitting opposite her. He stared back impassively with ice-blue eyes behind ice-blue glasses. Unlike most of the people who met Jakuzure’s glare, he seemed entirely unimpressed. There was a long silence before he deigned to speak.

 

“No,” he said finally.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me Jakuzure, I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” she asked, her tone short and her temper shorter.

“Can’t, actually. Lady Satsuki took steps.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat in what could have been remembered tension.

“Like what?” Jakuzure’s voice was entirely skeptical.

“She left a warning, with Iori’s help. It triggered the first time I ran a search on her.”

“What did it say?”

“She reminded me that it was none of my business who she spent time with outside of work. For that matter, it’s none of _your_ business either,” Inumuta said firmly, folding his arms.

“Are you kidding me?!” Jakuzure said, eyes narrowing, “I’m her best friend!”

“Then _ask her!_ ” he shot back, exasperated, “This is between the two of you. It has _nothing_ to do with me.”

“So you’re not gonna help me.” Jakuzure said, giving Inumuta her best pout. Unlike her glare, this one found a little purchase. He sighed under his breath and rubbed at his brow, then readjusted his glasses with a finger.

“Look, I’ll give you the basics,” he said finally.

“You will!?” she grinned, “You’re the best, doggy.”

“No, I’m not, because I’m not doing this and we aren’t having this conversation,” he said in a serious tone, “Besides, I’m not doing anything for you that google couldn’t anyway.”

 

What he did sketch out for her didn’t help her mood at all. Diane Yukimura, twenty-four, English-Japanese fashion columnist for _Fashion: Japan,_ affiliate lifestyle columns in a few other magazines and a half dozen newspapers. Recipient of ‘Best Newcomer’, ‘Jpn Potential Award’, ‘New columnist of the year’-  
_And probably ‘Seductress of the Year’ knowing my luck,_ Jakuzure grumbled internally.  
“How did they meet, anyway?” she asked, so that she didn’t have to hear any more award names. Inumuta shrugged, a complex gesture on so skinny an individual.

“No idea. She’s a fashion columnist, so I assume a press conference. Or she stalked her down and asked for an interview or something.”  
Jakuzure winced and shook her head, wishing for the fiftieth time that day that she could at least take a walk to clear her head. As it was, she lay marinating in a pool of her own worries for eight hours a day.  
_And I get to spend the other sixteen hours drooling and knocked out on drugs,_ she thought, _Lucky me!_

She licked her dry lips and reached for the cup at her bedside. She could at least drink by herself now, as long as she used a sippycup. She wasn’t even supposed to use straws, for god’s sake.

 

Inumuta stepped out to use the restroom, which gave her time to sit and think alone. The elite’s and Satsuki’s sister had been spending her recovery time with her in shifts- excepting the time she was supposed to be sleeping, and their constant attempts to cheer her up, while welcome at first, were quickly becoming grating. It was one thing to be hurt terribly. It was quite another to be upsettingly helpless to take care of herself as well. The less said about her own painful, humiliating bathroom chores, the better. And worse yet, there were half a dozen surgeries ahead of her in the next two weeks. That meant being dragged around the hospital, stabbed with needles, put under general anesthetic (which did nothing to improve her mood), and then having bits of her body opened, closed, fiddled with, and in two cases, removed entirely. A mild relief stacked up against her travails as she remembered that she was at least set to keep her leg. For a while there had been talk of amputation and a prosthesis, which she had been firmly, utterly against. It was _her_ leg, and she wanted it where it was, _thank-you-very-much._ Fuming internally, she blinked, and the world went away.

 

When her eyes opened again, the world seemed a very different place. Deep orange light slid through the gaps in the blinds on the window, and the watering of her sleepy eyes made burning fire swirl dizzily across her vision for several moments. Once the light had made itself known as streetlights from outside, things began to make sense again. The taste of dry saliva and cotton-wool mouth reinforced the realization that she’d lost a good eight or ten hours at the drop of a hat, and she began to dredge up a familiar series of curses at the inventor of painkillers and the man who had shot her. She’s been doing that a lot recently- dropping asleep in the middle of conversation or the moment she wasn’t actively occupied with something. No energy, that was the problem. Her body seemed to be set to some kind of stand-by mode, and all the future promised was more of the same. She blew out a breath and reached for her water, taking a few hesitant sips, then making a face.

_Bleh, stale,_ she thought, _Wait. Can water go stale? Bad? Whatever._

She lifted her head weakly and looked around for Inumuta, but he seemed to be gone. Aside from the thin slivers of orange light, the room was swathed in darkness now. Someone had checked in on her and switched the lights off, apparently. In the silence of the room, she realized that for the first time in a long while, she was completely alone. She lay back, twiddling her thumbs until she realized she was doing it and forced her hands to her sides.

_What to do, what to do…_

She had two small light novels that Inumuta had brought the day before, but she’d read them already, and the thought of rereading them held no real interest. She could play on her phone, but it was in her purse, and she was pretty sure _that_ was down by the foot of the bed on the floor, and only by some complicated gymnastics would she ever be able to reach it.

_And I’d probably break my neck doing it,_ she considered, _It and I can stay where we are, thanks._

She lay there, time having no meaning without a clock to look at or anywhere to go.

No deadlines, no assignments, no appointments. She couldn’t go home, she couldn’t go to the bathroom (not that she had to, _thank god),_ and she couldn’t even watch TV. She wiggled herself into a more comfortable position under the covers of the narrow hospital bed and stared at the ceiling. With the big handles and the mountain of covers blocking most of her view of the room, it was all she could easily look at while lying down, not that it provided a great deal of entertainment. Above her, the IV stand reached towards the ceiling like an old, withered tree bearing strange sac-like fruit and trailing vines. This cold, clinical room was a far cry from her well-lit, messy, and lived-in bedroom, with its plush animals and instruments on their stands. Noise filtered in slowly and intermittently from outside- the whispering rumble of traffic in the distance, then someone crying in the distance. She shivered, her ears straining. Then she heard footsteps pacing down the corridor.

 

First her spirits rose as she imagined Satsuki coming back to check up on her, but the tread was all wrong. Satsuki had a very unique step- especially to someone paying as much attention to her as Jakuzure did.

_A visitor then? Or one of the Elites?_ Her thoughts suggested, _Or a nurse on her rounds._

The footsteps kept coming, making their slow way down the hall. She swallowed softly, and her brain provided her with the thought that, as she was now, she was entirely defenseless. What if it was _him_? What if he had a friend? A protégé, an ally? What if he’d escaped, and had come to finish the job?

  
She shook her head, letting out a dry rasp of a chuckle as she caught herself.

_Look at me, scared of the dark and some footsteps, like I’m five years old all over again!_

The footsteps kept coming, getting louder and louder. Despite herself, her breathing began to quicken. It sounded as if they were coming right down to her room with their inexorably menacing tread.

_It’s nothing. It’s nothing! Just calm down. Take a deep breath. Or at least slow down. It’s nothing._

The footsteps made their way rhythmically down the corridor and stopped by what Jakuzure’s panicking brain decided was her door. Her breath was a series of harsh little pants, almost animal like, and she could feel the small hairs of her arms and neck standing almost entirely on end in primal reaction.

_It’s him, it’s him, it’s him, it’s him, it’s him,_ her inner-voice wailed, her heart in her throat.

There was silence for a long moment, a moment that seemed to last an eternity.

 

Then someone rattled the door handle, the clattering sound deafening in the silence of the room. Jakuzure couldn’t help herself- the adrenaline, the tension, the sheer force of what seemed to be her imminent murder overcoming her defenses entirely. She screamed, long and loud and hoarse, barely able to get any air into her lungs as the sound faltered within seconds. The handle of the door began to rattle even more vigorously, and then the sliding door suddenly slid open with a whirring roar, being thrown wide by a heavy hand. Jakuzure’s lungs burned with fire, but she forced them to take in air, as much as they could take. It was important that she let out another scream as soon as humanly possible.

 

Ryuko stood in the doorway, her slender form silhouetted by the harsh electric light of the corridor. Jakuzure stared at her, and screamed anyway. Ryuko was by her side suddenly, rushing forwards to meet her, her arms slapping down on Jakuzure’s shoulders.

“Jakuzure!? Are you okay? Did you tear something? Oh shit, stop screaming, it’s okay! I’m here. I’ve got to- Hey!” she broke off as Jakuzure clawed at her with her fingernails, “What the hell!?”

Jakuzure didn’t respond, her breathing a feral, snarling pant as she struck weakly at her attacker, her eyes wide and unseeing. Ryuko yelped and backed off, her eyes searching the rabid woman’s face. She made a decision and reached for the nurse-call button, only to be headed off by a series of weak but startling blows from Jakuzure’s hands that sent the little remote spinning from her hands. Ryuko stepped lightly backwards, and then reached back and blindly slapped at the lights. The room sprung into clearness with a flicker, and she saw Jakuzure for the first time. The girl was a mess. Her gown was halfway off her shoulder, and only the holder for her leg was stopping her from hurting herself in her thrashing. Her hair was wild and tangled from sleep, and her eyes- her eyes were as wide as saucers, her pupils vast and incoherent.

 

“Oh…” Ryuko breathed, then stepped closer, bending at the knees. When she spoke, her voice was feather-soft, and she made no move to touch the wild-eyed girl. Jakuzure tried to scream again, but now she was wheezing and breathing so hard that getting enough air to do so was an impossibility.

“Jakuzure? Nonon? You’re having a panic attack. I need you- shit, you gotta stop panting, okay?” she tapped her own chest firmly, “Take a deep breath, and then let it out, alright?”

Jakuzure shook her head, whining out pitifully, but she did so.

“Good. Again. Keep going now. In…and out. In…and out. There’s nothing wrong, okay? In…and out. You’re safe here, okay?”

It was a long, cajoling process, but finally Jakuzure lay slumped on her side, breathing deeply, tears running down her cheeks. Ryuko pulled herself to her feet, making a small noise of discomfort. She looked around, then slowly stepped back and closed the door. The soft thump of its closure made Jakuzure look up sharply, and when she did, there was real comprehension in her eyes for the first time since Ryuko had entered the little room.

“W-What…what happened to me?” she asked, in a rasping hiss. Ryuko winced.

“You…er…you had a panic attack,” she explained, running a hand through her hair, “You kinda freaked out.”

Jakuzure gulped and looked the girl over, her cheeks awfully pale. She closed her eyes and batted her tears away with the back of one shaking hand.

“I thought…I thought you were _him_ ,” she admitted, “Coming back to…y’know. That’s stupid, I know. But no one will even mention him. For all I know he’s on his way to-”

“He’s not.” Ryuko’s voice was firm, direct. She blew out a sigh and continued, “No one wanted to worry you about it. And Satsuki wouldn’t bring it up after…well. He’s in prison. Jail. Whatever.”

“After ‘what happened?’” Jakuzure asked, “What _did_ happen?”

“Well…” Ryuko ran a hand nervously through her hair again, “Satsuki kinda…she went down there with a sword and maybe tried to…take matters into her own hands.”

 

Jakuzure stared at her for a long moment, as if sure she were joking. When Ryuko’s expression didn’t change, she decided the only thing she could do was ask.

“This isn’t one of your lame jokes, right?” she asked, in a very small voice.

Ryuko sighed heavily and shook her head.

“I really wish it was, Jakuzure,” she said, “She went down there and beat up two cops. Then she nearly gutted the guy. Apparently he’s a total whackjob. He wasn’t after you at all. Just wanted to hurt Satsuki. He’s back in his cell and everything’s cool.”

“Wow…” Jakuzure mumbled, “She tried to kill him?”

“Yeah,” Ryuko said, staring at the ceiling, “I haven’t seen her that angry since…” she hesitated, then clearly forced herself to say the name, “Since Ragyo.”

“Oh…” That was all Jakuzure could say. It was all that needed saying.

 

There was a silence then, but a more relaxed one than before- if not entirely comfortable. Ryuko made her way around the bed and slumped into a chair, then hooked another one with her boot and hauled it close enough to rest her feet on. After a moment, she spoke.

“He can’t get you anymore, Jakuzure. Not now, not ever.”

Jakuzure looked dubious, but shrugged theatrically instead of disagreeing.

“Sure. I know that,” she said casually. Ryuko snorted.

“Obviously not if you’re having a panic attack because someone is coming to your room.”

Jakuzure glared at her, but she was so weak she could barely lift her head high enough. The outburst (she refused to use the term Ryuko had used) had left her drained and her hands shaking with excess adrenaline, which even now was combining noxiously with the painkillers running through her system.

“I was not having a ‘panic attack’,” she grumbled, “I was just…worried.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryuko snorted again, “Like I can’t recognize a panic attack when I see one.”

“Like you’re some fucking _expert,_ ” Jakuzure swore venomously, turning her head away with a huff.

“Well, yeah. I have them.” Ryuko’s voice was blunt, honest, and not at all embarrassed.

Jakuzure’s head whipped round nearly a hundred and eighty degrees to stare at her.

“I mean, not anymore. Not for a while. Mostly I just have nightmares now,” Ryuko continued, ignoring Jakuzure’s wide eyed stare, “And…I don’t mean to spill other people’s secrets, but Satsuki has them too. Or ‘had’ them. Not often, like I said. Sometimes I get them, when things are…really bad.”

“Y-You do?” Jakuzure asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah. Shit, Jakuzure, you’re not _special_ ,” Ryuko said chidingly, though her tone was mostly joking, “I have them, abuse victims have them, people who are assaulted have them, people who are in car crashes have them, shit- even _soldiers_ have them. Like I said, I only get them when things are bad. And I know things are bad for you right now.”

“I don’t-” Jakuzure said roughly, her mind a whirl, “I don’t need your pity, Matoi.”

“Well, good,” Ryuko shot back, “Because you’re not fuckin’ getting it. You saved someone’s life and got shot for it, pretty much at random, by a total psycho. That’s gonna leave a few marks.”

“Yeah, it did.” Jakuzure pointed to her leg, still high up in the little swing.

“Spiritual marks,” Ryuko corrected.

“Spiritual marks?” Jakuzure’s voice was extremely dubious. Ryuko sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Mental marks. Psychological marks, whatever you wanna call ‘em. Pain comes from the brain, you know. Physical pain, mental pain, emotional pain. It is, quite literally all in your head,” Ryuko leaned back in her chair and knitted her hands behind her head, looking away as if embarrassed to be so sympathetic to someone she normally traded barbs with, “No one expects you to be cheerful and happy, just like no one expects you to jump out of bed and run a marathon. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I…I uh, I knew it was you,” Jakuzure mumbled, changing the subject, “I saw you, and my brain recognized you. I just…couldn’t stop screaming. And…clawing at you.” Ryuko nodded slowly, still leaning back in her chair.

“Yeah, your body isn’t really listening to your brain at that point. If it happens again, do what you did this time. Forcing yourself to breathe slowly reasserts your control.”

“Right. Is…is it going to happen again?” Jakuzure asked in a quiet, desperately worried voice.

“It might. But it just as easily might not. Better to be prepared than to pretend you’ll be fine,” Ryuko said, with the air of someone quoting another person, “I’ve tried both options and the latter one _sucks._ ”

“Heh, only you, Matoi,” Jakuzure said softly, her breathing slowing, her eyes closed, “Only you could…could…” she trailed off, and within moments the pink-haired girl was snoring softly. Ryuko snorted out a breath of laughter and took out her phone. She sent a quick reply to Satsuki’s text message asking her to check in on Jakuzure, and then settled in for the long haul.

_Little troll has it rough,_ she thought with a sad smile, _Sure feels strange to feel sorry for her, though._

 

* * *

 

Sanageyama’s appearance always caused a small stir when he entered the hospital. The contrast between his neatly attired suit and the casual, scruffy way he wore it, not to mention the dark green hair, always drew stares from the staff and the other patients whenever they thought he wasn’t looking. He tolerated it, only pausing to dispense a questioning look whenever a stare became too intrusive. He leaned back against the wall as he look the elevator up to Jakuzure’s floor, his hands behind his head, ignoring the way that the other occupants deliberately weren’t looking at him. His gaze flickered over to a young nurse who was staring at him fixedly out of the corner of her eyes. He grinned lazily and winked, then chuckled under his breath as she flushed, practically rushing out onto the next floor. Mission accomplished, he stepped out onto Jakuzure’s floor, trading a nod with the security guard. The hospital had removed Satsuki’s guards now that the shooter was in custody, and only the occasional hospital security patrol walked the floor. It bugged Sanageyama a little, leaving one of his friends so exposed, but he supposed that she was just as exposed in her regular life anyway. He spent the slow walk down towards Jakuzure’s room niggling at the same thought that always bugged him when he thought about her- why she had turned down the job.

_I mean, she’s totally Satsuki’s BFF, and admires the hell out of her,_ he thought, _But then she gets offered a chance to be around her for hours every day and she says no? What the hell is that all about?_

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed that Jakuzure’s room was more occupied than normal. He slid the door open and almost walked into the back of a petite young woman- one of three who were crowded around Jakuzure’s bedside. They were caught in animated conversation, which suddenly halted as the girl he bumped into made a startled squeaking noise and spun around. Jakuzure looked up, craning her head past the other two girls and letting out a sigh.

“Hey monkey,” she greeted him, “How’s things?”

He shrugged and nodded to the girls in turn, stepping out of the way of the door.

“Not bad, not bad- don’t mind me, ladies, just here to keep the midget company!”

Jakuzure snarled weakly, and swatted at him, but he barely had to move to step out of her miniscule reach.

“Came here to annoy me, more like,” she grumbled, then made her goodbyes to the trio of girls, who left with promises to visit again before trooping out. They shared a whispered few words and a series of giggles as they eyed Sanageyama, who closed the door behind them, eying the immense pile of clutter now crowding the room. The bedside table held a pile of cards, some opened, some not, while there was a little pile of chocolate confection boxes on one of the chairs, next to which sat a small orchestra of plush animals bearing fuzzy instruments. The vase that sat on the bedside table (and which previously had been empty) now held a riotous mixture of flowers that was committing the floral equivalent of aggravated assault on his nostrils while simultaneously being a gigantic eyesore. He raised an eyebrow.

 

“More visitors?” he asked, idly walking around the bed to pick up a box of chocolates and pick through it.

“Representatives,” Jakuzure said, “From the orchestra club. I told them they could send three people with whatever they wanted to bring. The last thing I need is fifty people crowding in here asking me the same three questions.”

“Like what?” he asked, tossing a chocolate up into the air and dexterously catching it between his teeth.

“Oh, y’know. The same shit. ‘Yes, it’s pretty bad’, ‘Yeah, they caught the guy’, ‘No, I don’t know when I can leave’, the usual.”

“Not much to tell the others then, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know Monkey, you’ve given them plenty to talk about,” she said acidly, “What the hell were you thinking, teasing me in front of them?”

“What?” he asked, puzzled, “What did I do?”

“They’re going to think that we’re dating, moron.” Jakuzure’s voice was poisonous in its disdain.

“Why the hell would they think that!?”

“Because you came in, teased me and then hustled them out of the room to ‘keep me company’?”

He stared, realization slowly crossing his face, twisting his blank look into sudden horror.

“What? Oh. _Ohhh!_ Wait, ew!”

“Right back at you, you damn ape!” Jakuzure growled, shaking her fist, “I swear, you never think!”

“Pshh, I don’t think like a woman, that’s your problem.”

“Obviously, you don’t have the brain for it!”

Sanageyama just grinned and leaned back in his chair, eating her chocolates. Jakuzure sighed and slumped back into her bed. After a long while, he spoke up between bites.

 

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“What?” she said, turning her head so she could see him.

“Getting injured,” he clarified, “I’ve broken a couple bones before. It sucks.”

“Well yeah, that goes without saying, Monkey.”

“No, I mean the recovery,” he sighed, “Look- you’ve got talent, Inumuta has brains, I don’t know if Gama even _has_ bones, let alone if they’re breakable, but I’ve just got this body.” He gestured down at himself with the hand that wasn’t picking through the little black tray of confections in his lap.

“What _are_ you blathering about, Monkey?” Jakuzure snapped, her injury making her patience thin.

“I’m saying that you guys can all _do_ something,” he explained, “But when _I_ get hurt? I’m pretty much useless. All my hobbies, all my work, it’s pretty much athletic. So what I’m saying is, I totally get the whole boredom and feeling useless thing. I’m just saying, it sucks.”

There was a long pause while Jakuzure processed this. Then she gave him a direct look, one eyebrow raised.

“Monkey, are you trying to be empathetic?”

“Yeah, little bit.”

“You suck at that, too,” she said with a little smile, “But thanks.”

He snorted out a laugh and shook his head, “That’s what I get for trying to think like a woman, I guess.”

“That’s what you get for trying to think at all.”

“Oh shut up and stop whining, I came to keep you company didn’t I?” he complained, “You want one of your chocolates? They’re pretty good.”

“I can’t eat, dickbag,” Jakuzure grumbled, “I have surgery today.”

“Oh…” he trailed off, then popped another confection into his mouth, “Well, they’re really good.”

Jakuzure made an exasperated sound in her throat and turned away, her eyes flickering over the door as she did so.

 

“Expecting company?” he asked, drawing another sigh from the bedridden girl.

“No…well, I guess. Satsuki said she’d be back by now.”

“Yeah? I think I heard something about an emergency meeting. I haven’t seen her in like, two days. Plus she had a date last night.”

Jakuzure’s head whipped round hard enough to break her neck.

“What!? You know about that!?” she asked, her tone hysterical. Sanageyama shrugged theatrically.

“Uhhh, yeah? She called me like, ‘Don’t bother me, I have a date,’ so I guess she saw Diane again.”

“Don’t fucking ‘Diane’ me, Monkey! How come I didn’t know about her and your moronic ass does!?”

“Jeez, don’t get your panties in a twist, Jakuzure! So what, the boss has a date! I only know her name because they had a shouting match the other day!”

“W- Wait, what!?” Jakuzure asked, incredulous, “Wait, wait, wait. Start from the beginning.”

“Calm down, seriously.” Sanageyama said, raising his hands, “Take a deep breath. So, like…maybe a month ago, Satsuki calls me and asks me to make a reservation at a restaurant for her. I ask why, and she’s like ‘I have a date’. So obviously, I’m blown away but she’s scary so I don’t ask questions.”

“Go on…” Jakuzure whispered, her eyes wide, her attention completely focused.

“So maybe two weeks later, I’m at the office, right? And I hear this argument, and Satsuki’s on the phone in _her_ office, and I mean, her office is not even _close_ to mine. I’m like, two doors down. But she’s…I mean, she’s not shouting, but she’s really talkin’ loud, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, she does that.”

“But I hear this name, ‘Diane’, and Satsuki is saying all this shit about taking liberties or whatever, so I thought ‘well there goes that’. But I guess it wasn’t that bad, cos they went out again last night. I only knew cos me and Gama are working double-time on the security.”

Jakuzure slumped back, apparently drained, her hands over her face. Sanageyama stared at her, one eyebrow raised. Slowly, she pulled her hands down her face while making a growling, exasperated noise.

“You…alright there, Jakuzure?” he asked cautiously. She sighed and nodded weakly.

“Yeah. I just…” she broke off, gesturing wildly with her hands, “I’m the last one to know, y’know? I care about Satsuki a lot, and all of a sudden she has a-”

“I wouldn’t call her that,” Sanageyama said suddenly, interrupting her, “From what I heard.”

“You wouldn’t?” Jakuzure asked, like a drowning sailor being offered a life-line.

“Would you call a guy your boyfriend after you went on a couple of dates?”

“I’m not dating anyone,” she reminded him less than gently. He waved the objection away.

“Question still stands, hypothetically,” he said, “It’s a total creep move.”

“Yeah I guess. So they’re, what, ‘seeing each other’?”

Sanageyama made a noncommittal grunt that seemed to indicate that the phrase would do. He shrugged.

“Hell, I didn’t even know she swung that way. I thought it was a ‘just friends’ thing. Gotta be a lot of disappointed guys out there now.”

“Don’t look too down, Monkey, you’re out of her league anyway!” she teased, only to get a chocolate tossed lightly at her head. She ducked it by falling back into her prone position, and it clattered off her IV stand.

“Eh, who isn’t?” he asked rhetorically, “She’s gotta be looking down on whoever tries to ask her out anyway.”

This time it was Jakuzure who made the small grunt of affirmation. Sanageyama looked up suddenly.

 

“Hey, speaking of looking down at people, did your parents come visit yet?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” she sighed heavily, “Couple days ago. For about twenty minutes. Complained about everything, the hospital, the staff, the room, the bed, the food, the _parking._ ”

“Wow. So, pretty much a typical visit then, huh?” he asked dryly. She chuckled.

“Yeah, except they weren’t complaining about _my_ place this time,” she quieted, then continued in a lower voice, “It was kinda sad. They acted like they couldn’t wait to be outta here. Mother kept up her crocodile tears, and Dad wouldn’t even look at my leg.”

“Well, it’s gotta be tough seeing your little girl get hurt,” Sanageyama mused, almost sympathetically, “I dunno if I’d handle it any better.”

“Pshh, god forbid someone marries you,” said Jakuzure with a grin, “Let alone gives you a baby.”

“Oh shut up, I’d be awesome. Not that I want a kid or anything. Besides, you can’t talk, you’d get upset when the kid outgrew you at age five.”

“Bite me, Monkey!”

“I would, but I don’t know where you’ve been,” he said with a chuckle. She tossed a card at him, which fluttered past his head daintily and spiraled down under the chair.

“Wow, cranky today! Low blood sugar? You really need these chocolates,” he teased.

“For the last time, Monkey, I can’t _eat_ anything! I have surgery this afternoon. They’re gonna check the patch on my lung and then they have to…y’know, I don’t even know what they’re doing to my leg.”

“Huh, that sounds pretty serious. Is your lung okay now, or what?” he asked, sobering up a bit.

“I guess so. It shouldn’t tear open and kill me now, at least,” she joked, “And they’re not talking about cutting the leg off anymore.

“Damn. That’s scary.” For once, Sanageyama’s voice was neither joking nor sarcastic. She chuckled.

“I’m a big girl, Monkey, I’ll be fine,” she groused, putting her hands behind her head and wiggling into a more comfortable position.

“Well, let me know if they need help holding your ego out of the way so they can get to your leg, midget.”

“Hey-”

“Or I could lend them a magnifying glass or something.”

“Shut it, Monkey!”

“Inumuta’s a nerd, I’m sure he has a microscope or something-”

“Visiting hours are over, asshole! Go get a drink. And pour it over yourself. Then trip on the stairs and die.”

 

Sanageyama was laughing hard as he stood to go, appropriating another box of chocolates from the barely diminished pile on the second chair. Jakuzure grinned at his turned back.

_At least this is still the same,_ she mused, _Even if nothing else is._


End file.
